Destinations: What D'you Do With a Drunken Sailor?
by Genesis Wolfe
Summary: Sequel to Destinations: Really Bad Eggs. Genesis and Rosalyn are now members of Jack Sparrow's crew, which is bound to be interesting. A filler fic set between Curse of the Black Pearl and Dead Man's Chest.
1. Seven Seas of Rhye

_Disclaimer: I, of course, do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. I do, however, own Genesis and Rosalyn, though they will never, ever, admit it._

_Author's Note: This story is the sequel to Destinations: Really Bad Eggs. So do read that first, else much of this won't make sense. Especially the fact that these two strange women are aboard the _Pearl_. XD_

**Destinations: What Do You Do With a Drunken Sailor?**

**Chapter One: Seven Seas of Rhye**

The sun was burning a shimmering trail across the calm waters as it sank beneath the horizon, lighting up the sky with vivid tangerine and shocking pinks that bled into the deep indigo of the oncoming night. A single star sparked in the east, winking down on the lone dark shape breaking the monotony of the gently rocking sea. The events taking place upon said shape, however, were anything but calm and serene.

A lone shot exploded from the deck of the _Black Pearl_, echoing over the whoops, hollers, and songs of its crew. Marty the dwarf danced a small jig as he held his still-smoking pistol in the air, joined in his dancing by much of the _Pearl_ crew. Two new additions included.

Genesis Wolfe, better known as Genesis Morgan to her present company, was currently Cotton's dancing partner, though neither party seemed to know exactly what type of dance they were performing nor how to do it. The brunette laughed heartily with the older man as he spun her around with a certain lack of finesse, causing her to tumble backward into Duncan, the ship's carpenter. After a brief moment of tenseness, Genesis realized that her new dance partner was the rather quiet, soft-spoken pirate. She gave him a broad smile and pulled him to the center of the circle to dance next to the other newest member of the _Pearl_ family.

Rosalyn O'Brien was also dancing with the crew, though it took a bit of coaxing from Genesis and a bit more coaxing with alcohol from the crew to get her to do so. Half a bottle of fine tequila later, and Rosalyn was kicking up her heels with the best of them, still wearing her corset-and-bloomers ensemble from the day's earlier events. Roz found herself snatched suddenly from behind, glancing around dizzily to see that it was Genesis, and gave her best friend a rare hug. It was evident that the alcohol had that effect on her; the two girls were rarely so affectionate.

Near the helm, seated on two barrels, were two darker figures, the lamps' lights just barely casting flickering orange shapes across their faces. The ship's first mate, Joshamee Gibbs, watched the two young women dancing with the rest of the crew, eyes narrowed slightly. "Still not quite sure I'm comfortable with three women aboard, Cap'n," he said. "S'more trouble than what seems necessary."

The captain, seated next to him with his leather tricorn hat pulled low over his eyes as he dozed slightly, shifted a bit, a smirk tugging at one side of his mouth. "Aye, Mister Gibbs, I see your rationale," came the mocking reply. "Tell you what; I'll let you pick which one of the three goes, _and_…I'll let you do the honors of telling said sweet lass that she'll be left at the next port."

Gibbs' eyes swung to the scene before him. Anamaria was playing a game of dice with some of the crew members, and currently threatening to cut off one's manhood if he did not show how he'd cheated on the last round. Genesis was currently dancing, but had yet to remove the sword from her hip, nor the dagger tucked into the black velvet garter on her bare thigh. And he'd seen how Rosalyn had used that golden scepter as a staff-like weapon in the caves of Isla de Muerta; he knew little of the redhead, and wondered just how many other things she could use as an impromptu weapon. And thus, he was sufficiently silenced.

The captain's grin grew wider at his first mate's silence, and a single bejeweled finger rose, its point moving beneath the front corner of his hat and pushing it up, revealing dark, kohl-lined eyes lined in amusement. The eyes alighted on each of the three women in turn as well, as if sizing up which one he would get rid of, if made to choose.

"I can assure you that one of said fair maidens will indeed be off my ship at the next port, in fact," he suddenly said. At Gibbs' surprised look, Jack nodded towards Anamaria. "Our dear Ana is here simply to receive a ship of her own, and I'd say she's earned it. There was enough swag in the holds to buy her a small sloop, at the very least."

"Awful generous o' ye, Cap'n," Gibbs said in a suspicious tone.

Jack watched the festivities a bit longer…or tried to. Gibbs was staring at him. In that accusatory look Gibbs was so very good at. After a few seconds of attempting to ignore it, Jack sighed in exasperation. "And she threatened me again."

"With what?"

"Castration."

"Aw, that's not so bad, Cap'n," Gibbs said. "She says that t' everyone."

"Without any manner of blade."

"Ah."

The song that was being sung by the crew died away, as did the final crimson beams of the setting sun. Genesis grinned at Duncan as the shy man bowed at the waist and kissed her hand, and Rosalyn grimaced as her partner, an orange-bearded deckhand by the name of Kursar, did the same in a slightly…sloppier manner. Gen caught the face and snickered, the laugh morphing into a yawn that she hid behind the back of her hand. As usual, the yawn was contagious, and much of the crew found themselves longing for the relative comfort of their hammocks. Genesis and Rosalyn, however, found themselves at a slight disadvantage. Genesis spotted Jack, and made her way over to him with a grin still plastered on her bright, youthful face.

"Jack, I—"

A stern look.

"_Captain Sparrow_," she corrected with a sigh and a playful roll of the eyes. "Might I enquire as to where we might be sleeping?"

Jack looked down his nose at the young woman before him. "Expecting special treatment, Miss Morgan?"

"Oh, no, sir," she countered. "But I counted the hammocks in the crew's quarters, and there's exactly enough for the crew…not counting Rosalyn and I. Unless you have extras elsewhere, wherein Roz and I will be happy to set them up alongside the crew."

Jack looked to Gibbs for assurance that there were extra hammocks to be found. At the older man's shrug and head-shake, Jack pulled a face, looking back to the brunette before him. And then, genius struck.

"It seems as though our lodging has been filled to the brim," he said in mock-remorse. "However, there is a certain opening that you may or may not be interested in, and--"

"If it involves your quarters, I'll kick you in the head."

"Offer retracted."

By this time, Rosalyn had made her way over to the small group, overhearing a bit of the conversation. "So…where exactly _will_ we be sleeping, oh wise leader?" she asked, tilting her head.

"My cabin."

The offer, much to everyone's surprise, did not come from Jack, but from Gibbs. The two women and the captain simultaneously turned their heads toward the first mate, faces pulled into quizzical expressions that had to have been comical from an observer. Gibbs' eyes widened, jaw slacked, and he sputtered for a moment before finally spitting out a coherent sentence.

"Not like tha', ye ninnies!" he exclaimed. Not that it helped. Genesis and Rosalyn had already fallen into a giggling fit that had Roz bent at the waist, and Genesis on the deck below, unable to remain standing under the strain of her laughter. Jack merely grinned, leaning back in a Cheshire Cat manner, eyeing Gibbs appreciatively.

"What I _meant_ was that the lasses can have me cabin, an' I'll find other lodgin'," Gibbs explained. Genesis sobered slightly.

"Really?" she said, soothing away her chuckles and wiping the tears from her eyes. "You'd do that for us?"

"More like fer th' crew," Gibbs said in a hushed tone. "They ain't used t' havin' womenfolk around their sleepin' quarters."

"What about Anamaria?" Roz asked.

"Doesn't count," Jack muttered off-handedly.

"She's got 'er hammock set up on deck," Gibbs explained. "She gets a tad antsy in close quarters anyhow."

"Gibbs, this is really sweet of you," Gen said with a smile.

"Aye," Roz said. "Y'know, you keep up the cute stuff, we may be tempted to invite you back into the cabin, if you know what I mean."

Gibbs flushed a ruddy pink, though it seemed his embarrassment at the tease was coupled with an undercurrent of approval at the idea. He shrugged. "Makes more sense this way, given the two bunks in it," he said. "Shame t' keep it all t' meself when I'd rather be with th' crew anyhow."

There was a moment of silence, in which the two women glanced at each other with large smiles. Gibbs paled. "Whate'er yer plannin', don't."

"Too late," Gen said, and the pair leapt at Gibbs, arms encircling his neck and shoulders as they took him down on the other side of the barrel in a tackling hug.

"Oh, Gibbsy," Roz crooned. "You're the bestest first mate _ever."_

"If _I_ ever have a first mate," Gen tittered, "I want him to be just like _you_."

"Ah, get off, ye silly twits!" Gibbs said, though the command was joined by a bit of laughter on his part. The women climbed off of him and scampered off, disappearing around the corner in pursuit of their new living quarters. Jack watched them as Gibbs climbed back onto his barrel.

"Those lasses…are made for trouble."

&&&&&&&&&&

The cabin was certainly nothing special. It was, perhaps, eight feet by ten, if that, and the only furniture currently occupying it was the two-tiered bunks and a shabby table. Hardly a four-star accommodation, but considering that the alternative was sleeping on the damp floor of the crews' quarters with their crewmates dangling precariously overhead, they were very grateful for Gibbs' sacrifice. The room was relatively quiet now, with the exception of the constant, muffled creaking of the ship. And the exception of Rosalyn.

"Gen?"

"Yeah?"

"What's happening?"

Genesis was silent for a moment, merely staring at the darkness above her, unable to see the bottom of the upper bunk despite it being only four feet from her face. She and Rosalyn had gone to bed over a half hour ago, and she had yet to sleep. Too much was running through her mind. And it was apparent by Rosalyn's question that the same thing had been happening in the bunk above.

"I don't know," Gen said honestly.

"I mean…shouldn't we have gone back?" Roz asked. "The movie's over. I thought we'd go back at the end."

"I know," Gen said, scowling into the darkness. "I don't get it."

A moment of silence. "What if…what if they made a sequel?" Roz asked suddenly. "I mean…the movie was a blockbuster smash…and it's Disney…"

"Eff," was the only reply from below.

There was silence for a while longer; long enough for one of them to fall asleep. Neither did.

"We just need to wait it out," Gen said finally. "I mean…that's all we can do, right?"

"I guess…"

"Roz," Gen said quietly. "I promise I'll find a way to get us back. There's got to be a way. And if there is, I'll find it."

"…I know."


	2. In the Lap of the Gods

Disclaimer: I, of course, do not own Pirates of the Caribbean

_Disclaimer: I, of course, do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. I do, however, own Genesis and Rosalyn, though they will never, ever, admit it. Kat and Theresa are characters of mine featured on the online RPG Code of the Brethren, and Calliope is likewise, though she is owned by the fabulous Bean Rua and has been borrowed with permission._

_Author's Note: This story is the sequel to Destinations: Really Bad Eggs. So do read that first, else much of this won't make sense. Especially the fact that these two strange women are aboard the _Pearl_. XD_

**Chapter Two: In the Lap of the Gods**

The first few days of their lives aboard the _Black Pearl_ were far from glamorous. Or even exciting. As the two least-experienced sailors aboard the ship, Genesis and Rosalyn were put to cleaning duty. While the others worked to keep the ship afloat and on course, Genesis and Rosalyn spent their days elbows-deep in rags and suds, scrubbing the deck, polishing the railing, sweeping out the decks. The ship had been left in a horrid state by its previous owner, though Rosalyn had the feeling that it was with good reason. If she discovered she'd been cursed to live an eternally unfulfilled life, she wouldn't care less about a bit of grime either.

As it was that day, the majority of the cleaning had been finished, and a very filthy Genesis and Rosalyn were sitting on the deck, laps full of tattered black sails, dirty fingers doing their best to patch up the shredded sailcloth. Rosalyn was having more luck.

"GRAH," Gen roared, slamming her work onto her lap. "This is _stupid._"

Rosalyn did not even bother to look up, merely focusing on her fingers as she pushed a somewhat dull and too-large needle through the coarse fabric. "Gen, dear, is something bothering you?"

"Yes," Genesis replied, as if the affirmation was necessary. "I've spent the past three days scrubbing ten years' worth of nasty from this bloody ship, smelled more odors than I'd care to try to identify, I've been wearing the same clothes for a week without having properly thought about the fact beforehand because God knows I would not have chosen _denim_ in a field involving a lot of water, _and I can't bloody sew."_

It was at that precise moment that Jack happened to walk by to check on the women's progress. He lofted a brow. "Gen, dear, is something bothering you?"

Gen released a strangled growl and buried her face into the sails, muffling a scream. Roz looked up to Jack with a smirk, and the pirate grinned in return.

"Land ho!"

Rosalyn looked up to the crow's nest, spotting Quartetto, a gangly youth currently acting as lookout, pointing eagerly. "Tortuga, dead ahead, Cap'n!"

Jack grinned broadly, and made his way to the helm. Rosalyn's brow furrowed, and she glanced at Genesis. The older woman had been to the pirate port before, and Roz had no choice but to trust her judgment. Therefore, when she saw her friend's smile, she felt at ease, until she saw the cheeky glint in her eye as well. That meant trouble.

"Should I be worried?" asked the redhead.

"Nah," Gen replied, setting her sewing aside. "Jack's the one that gets slapped all the time. Show a little leg, and you'll be fine."

Rosalyn glanced down at her legs, which were clad in the same dingy bloomers she'd escaped Port Royal in. "Leg?" She didn't even own a pair of shorts back home, let alone a skirt that really showed off her legs. Maybe the men of Tortuga would be okay with ankles?

Genesis, meanwhile, watched her friend eye her bloomers with a different perspective on the issue. "You're dirty."

"You're a whore."

"I meant literally."

"…and?"

"Shut up," Gen said, wrinkling her nose playfully. "I mean, you need a bath. And new clothes. That's not exactly…piratey."

"You're not exactly pristine right now either," Roz said. "All kinds of pot versus kettle." She pointed at Gen's denim cut-off shorts.

"Touché," Gen replied. She raised a brow. "What do you think the chances are of the good captain letting us do a bit of shopping in T-Town?"

"If it gets rid of us for a couple hours, I'd say pretty good," Rosalyn replied. "But how exactly do you plan on buying said clothing?"

"I'll think of something."

"Gen, prostitution is bad," Roz deadpanned. "I'm fairly certain it's a Catholic no-no. Not to mention, I don't think penicillin has been invented yet, and who knows what nasty itchy bug you could pick up out there. It's really--"

"I'm not going to whore myself," Gen said with a laugh. "Well, at least not to that extent. Follow my lead."

Genesis rose from her perch on a barrel, tossing her handiwork to the side. Rosalyn followed, and they found themselves at the helm, flanking the infamous pirate.

"Oh, _Captain_," Genesis cooed in her most sex-kittenish tone.

Rosalyn could have sworn she saw Jack's Beddable Woman Radar activate, though he did not even deign to look at either of them. "Yes, Miss Morgan?"

"_Ahem_."

"And Miss O'Brien."

"That's better."

"My associate and I have come to the realization that our choice in ensembles are highly lacking in an occupation such as our own," Genesis said. "We were wondering if, perhaps, we could receive an advance on our share of a future prize, in order to supplement our wardrobes more appropriately?"

Roz saw one dark eyebrow rise, but heard no response, so she decided to bust out the heavy artillery. She stepped up closed, hands clasped behind her back, knowing that it showed off the smooth expanse of pale skin above her bodice to its fullest potential. "We'd be _really_ grateful, Captain."

Finally, Jack's eyes tore themselves away from the sea before him, and flickered briefly to Rosalyn's lightly freckled flesh. "That so?"

"Oh, indeed," Genesis said, casting a sly glance Roz's way. "Unspeakably grateful."

"In fact," Roz said, emboldened by Gen joining into the game, "We planned to find ourselves a blonde in town to bring back to our cabin for the night. We were thinking about letting you watch…"

"But with a few bits of gold, we could probably let you join," Genesis said in a casual tone.

"I don't see why not," Rosalyn said in the same nonchalant manner. She looked earnestly at Jack. "Did Gen ever tell you that she can lift her leg over her head?"

"And Roz has no gag reflex."

Without another word, a small pouch was thrust into Rosalyn's hands. She gave it a little toss, feeling its weight and listening to the jingle of coins within. "Thank you much," she said in a chipper tone.

"You won't regret it," Gen assured Jack as the two girls sauntered away. Jack didn't bother to turn around to shout a word of precaution to them.

"Don't get Giselle!"

The girls' shopping spree would have to wait, it seemed, as they were given their first in-depth lesson in the work it took to properly dock a ship. Many bruises and curse words later, the _Black Pearl_ was safely dockside, and the crew scrambling down the gangplank to their first steps on land since the Isla de Muerta. Genesis and Rosalyn followed suit, reaching the bottom of the ramp just in time to see Jack hand Anamaria a large pouch, heavy with gold and trinkets.

"Should be enough, love," he said with a nod.

She bounced the bag a bit, eyeing him suspiciously. "And it's real?"

Jack placed a hand to his breast, feigning pain. "Ana, I'm hurt, really I am," he said in a melodramatic fashion. "When have I ever caused you to distrust me?"

"Hold on," Genesis said, stepping up beside them. "I know this one."

"I'll take Loaded Questions for 500, Alex," Roz added.

"You're really leaving us, Anamaria?" Gen said, ignoring the odd looks the two pirates were casting Rosalyn's way. "That's going to make our all-female takeover difficult."

Roz saw Jack frown at the mention of potential mutiny, even when it was in jest. She laid a comforting hand on his arm. "Oh, don't worry, Captain, we won't boot you."

"Aye," Gen affirmed. "We need you. How else are we going to breed the next generation of Amazon piratesses?"

Jack beamed. "Well, can't argue your excellent choice in a sire, ladies."

"Ew," Roz muttered. She looked to the dark woman next to her. "We'll miss you, Anamaria." She pouted theatrically.

Anamaria stepped back warily. "You're not going to try to hug me, are you?"

"Of course not," Roz said. "I was lying. I don't even…like…you…_oh GOD."_ She released a dramatic wail and threw herself into the arms of a passing crewmate, which happened to be Duncan. The man, clearly confused, merely patted the woman awkwardly on the back as her body racked with fake sobs.

"I need to leave," Anamaria said flatly. "Now."

"Good call," Gen said. "Her crazy might be catching." She held out a hand to Anamaria. "Good luck, mate."

After a moment's hesitation, Anamaria took Gen's hand in a firm shake, and just like that, she was gone. Jack sighed in relief. "One down. _OOF_."

Genesis removed her elbow from Jack's ribs and held her hand out to Rosalyn. "Roz. Shopping."

Rosalyn instantly perked her head up from Duncan's shoulder, tear- and pout-free. "Let's go," she said cheerfully, leaving a very lost and confused Duncan in her wake. Jack watched the two girls disappear into town, then looked to poor Duncan.

"C'mon, mate," he said. "You look like you could use a drink."

&

Genesis had to admit, she was rather impressed by Rosalyn's shrewd haggling skills. Had she been doing her shopping alone, she never would have received as much for her share of gold as Roz had managed to snag them. As it was, their arms were full of various garments and other odds and ends as they returned to the _Pearl_. Depositing their goods on the bed, Roz paused and listened. "Rather quiet, isn't it?"

Gen paused in her sorting of her new clothing to listen. "Yeah," she said, returning to her handiwork and lifting a pair of breeches to scrutinize. "Crew must be at the _Bride_."

"_Bride?_"

"_The Faithful Bride_," Gen said, draping the breeches over her shoulder. "A tavern. The one that Jack, Will and I went to, to talk to Gibbs."

"…will they have tequila?"

Gen raised an eyebrow. "That's questionable," she said. "Definitely rum."

Roz grimaced.

"Probably beer. Ale. Whatever."

"I'm in."

Twenty minutes later, Genesis and Rosalyn stepped off the gangplank of the _Black Pearl_ looking very different than they had boarding it. Roz went a more pristine route, with a white corset, trimmed with black, over a white shirt, with brown breeches and brown laced-up boots that extended over her knee. Gen's white, off-shoulder blouse was topped by a black brocade waistcoat, paired with black breeches and her own simple, black boots. Gen went bare-headed, long waves braided loosely down her back, but Roz…well…Roz decided to wear a hat. And not just any hat. This hat was wide-brimmed and topped with pink, red, and gold feathers. It was a hat made for someone who wasn't big on blending in.

"Bit much, don't you think?" Gen said as she was slapped in the face by a feather. Again.

"Jealous?"

"No. I just feel bad for the flock of ostriches that had to die for your hat."

Her concern for avian species earned her a glare from her friend, and the two women continued on their way, slipping through the crowds (whilst holding tightly to any and all their belongings) as Genesis led them with only a few moments of lost panic to the aforementioned tavern.

The welcome was somewhat warm, and very boisterous. The crew raised some cheerful, tipsy mugs in their direction as they entered, as did some strangers who seemed to be celebrating in a similar manner. Genesis grinned and pulled a somewhat hesitant Rosalyn in by the wrist and joined the crew's table as Gibbs waved over a barmaid to get the girls some drinks.

It took a surprisingly short amount of time for the girls to become just as inebriated as their crewmates. Soon they were laughing (with due amount of snorting) along, making vulgar innuendos with the best of them, and fitting right in. Suddenly, Rosalyn made an important discovery.

"My ale is gone!"

Gen raised both eyebrows in surprise and eyed her mug intently. "My rum's almost gone, too," she observed. She reached down and plucked a silver coin from her pouch. "Get us another round, Rozzie?"

Rosalyn scowled at Gen's insistence that she herself should get up to get the drinks, but since Genesis paid from her portion of the coin Jack had given them, she had little room to truly argue. She stood, wavering a bit as she did so and catching herself by laying a strong grip on Gen's shoulder (and earning a pained yelp from the woman in the process), and began to make her way to the bar. Perhaps it was best this way; if she was this intoxicated after a mug of ale, how would Gen have fared after a mug of pure rum? The thought of watching Gen stumble around made her giggle, since the woman had already suffered a broken ankle from a night of heavy drinking before.

And then Roz met a wall. No…not a wall. A person. Wall. A very large, wall-like person. She bumped right into it, stumbled back a few inches, and looked up with wide, surprised eyes. A wide, greasy face looked back down to her, thin lips wide in a semi-toothless smile.

"'Allo there, pretty."

"Hello there…shiny," she replied, not knowing exactly how to respond to such a greeting. She gave a small, polite smile, and attempted to sidestep him and continue on her way to the bar. He, however, shifted, blocking her path once again. She furrowed her brow, and looked up at him again.

"Excuse me," she said, attempting to move the other way, and once again failing. She frowned more deeply. "I'd like to get to the bar."

"I'd like to see you try," said the man with a rumbling chuckle. "In fact…I'd like to see a lot of you."

Rosalyn's eyes became green saucers at this, and she quickly spun around and attempted to flee, to no avail. A large, meat-like hand shot out and grabbed her by the collar of her shirt and yanked her back hard against his brick-like body, and his fingers were suddenly everywhere. She let out a horrible scream that was met only by laughter on his part, and on the parts of some of the men around him. She struggled furiously, feeling her stomach turn violently as she felt his hands running over her body, groping and prodding as her arms were pinned to her sides…

A gunshot tore through the tavern, and Rosalyn yelped as she felt the man stiffen, and suddenly slump to the ground behind her. She looked down at him for a moment, before looking back, fully expecting to see Genesis, or even Jack, behind her. Instead, she saw Duncan, pistol still smoking dangerously and aimed toward the dead man. Her jaw dropped in surprise, and he looked at her, his dark eyes filled with concern. "Are you all right, Miss O'Brien?"

"I…um…yeah…I guess," she muttered, looking back down to the large body at her feet. "That might've been…um…a bit overdramatic, Duncan, but I highly appreciate the thought."

At that moment, both of them realized that the people around them seemed to be moving. Moving closer, to be exact. Rosalyn gulped. "Perhaps…we should make our grand exit?"

Duncan nodded eagerly, reaching out to take her hand and ushering her quickly back to the table, the mob growing in size. Jack looked up in surprise at the sudden empty-handed return.

"We should leave," Roz said abruptly.

"Why?"

"I just shot someone," said Duncan with all the casualness of one claiming they'd just had tea.

"Ah. Right then."

A few surrounding crew members turned to see the steadily approaching crowd of not-so-happy men, and Genesis literally squeaked as she saw one man pull out a dagger. "You know?" she said shakily. "Not so thirsty anymore, actually."

"Don't be ridiculous, Miss Morgan," Jack said. "You merely need a change in scenery." He paused dramatically, rising from his seat with great flourish and holding out a hand to aid the young woman to her feet as well.

_"Now."_

The crew, newest recruits included, wasted no time in taking off, slipping through bystanders and escaping the tavern with minimal injuries and no casualties. Once they were a good few dozen yards from the establishment, Gen collapsed onto a barrel outside a nearby brothel. She looked up at Rosalyn and Duncan. "What on earth did you two do?" She suddenly eyed the pair; they were no longer hand-in-hand, but Duncan had a rather possessive arm about Rosalyn's waist. The two noticed the brunette's stare, and quickly separated, Rosalyn looking everywhere but at Genesis, and Duncan clearing his throat. Roz swallowed uncomfortably and looked to Jack, who remained oblivious to the former proximity of his crew members.

"So, now what?" she asked. "Back to the ship?"

"Oh, dear Rosalyn, the night is still young," Jack replied with a grin. "The rum is still flowing, the air is still relatively fresh, and the strumpets have just barely lifted their skirts to their first patrons."

"I'll take that as a no."

"Then what, Captain?" Gen asked curiously. "Wandering the streets doesn't sound very fun. Or safe. Or sanitary."

"We could give the _Peacock_ a try, Cap'n," Gibbs suddenly offered. "Missus Miller's got a knack fer keepin' her place safe fer the ladies."

Jack grimaced and instinctively rubbed at his left arm. Gen raised an eyebrow, wondering what brought such a motion on. Jack glanced back at the _Bride_ and sighed. "Better than nothing, I suppose."

He turned on his heel and led the crew through the crowded streets, Gen and Roz making sure to stick close by him, and they soon arrived at another tavern, though this one seemed to be in less disrepair and marked with an elaborately painted sign featuring an ornate white bird.

"_The Albino Peacock_," Gen read.

Gibbs nodded. "A tavern and brothel run by one Missus Calliope Miller," he explained. "Home t' the best rum and best whores in all o' Tortuga."

"Then why didn't we just come here in the first place?" Roz asked. "Sounds like Jack's sort of place."

"Well," Gibbs said, the corners of his mouth quirking slightly. "The madame isn't one to take nonsense from anyone, especially Jack. Not to mention, he tried to rob Theresa."

"Theresa?"

"The Top Peacock."

"Peacock?"

"The brothel's whores."

"Ah."

The change of atmosphere was immediate upon walking into the _Peacock_. In the _Bride,_ there had always been that pesky little feeling that you were constantly in danger of becoming a kabob on someone's cutlass. The _Peacock_, on the other hand, had a feeling of warmth, and safety. It was quite well-lit, thanks to the many oil lamps on the walls and tables, and behind the well-stocked bar was a mural of a grand galleon flying the recognizable black flag of piracy. The room was packed with low tables, and a grand staircase rose and wrapped along the wall, leading to an upper area that seemed to lead to individual rooms; Genesis could only assume that such smaller rooms were for the use of the Peacocks and their male patrons. The tavern was relatively full, and Gen noticed a difference between the customers here and those at the _Bride_; mainly that these men (and a few women) looked like they'd actually seen a bathtub in the current decade. There were also no drawn weapons, which was almost unheard of in the _Bride._

"Jacques!"

Gen turned with a raised eyebrow at the cry, spotting a stunning blonde in vibrant green strolling up to Jack, hands full of her voluminous skirts. Jack seemed to lose a bit of color, though the blonde's smile seemed to put him at rest. Perhaps this was the infamous Missus Miller?

"Theresa," Jack said in return. Gen and Roz looked at Gibbs knowingly.

"I feel a slap coming on," Roz ventured.

She was wrong. The stinging slap never came, but the stomach-turning fist to the gut did. Jack doubled over, as the gorgeous blonde unleashed a stream of French that, had anyone understood it, would have made a sailor blush. As it was, Genesis and Rosalyn did know a touch of French, and understood enough of the tirade to know that it was not pleasant. Gen watched Theresa storm off, shapely hips swaying.

"I like her."

Before Jack could regain his breath, a pale hand was laid over his shoulder. "Don't try to tell me you didn't deserve that," said a low, feminine voice. Jack turned slowly, as did Genesis and Rosalyn, to see who the speaker was. It was another lovely blonde, though this one was quite tall, easily six feet, and issued a serene authority that Theresa had lacked. She was dressed in soft blue, and wore no jewelry save a golden wedding band on her left hand.

"Ah, Calliope," Jack wheezed. "Pleasure, as always. Forgive me for not standing to greet you, as your best girl just dislocated my liver."

"I can think of another more prominent organ she could've maimed," Calliope replied. "Count yourself lucky."

Her blue eyes fell upon Genesis and Rosalyn, and she raised an eyebrow. "And who be these two, Sparrow?" she asked with genuine interest. "They look a bit wide-eyed and bushy-tailed to be real salts. New recruits?"

"Glorified stowaways, really," Jack quipped.

"Genesis Morgan, Missus Miller," Gen piped up, giving Jack a glare. "And this is Rosalyn O'Brien."

"Oh, none of that 'missus' stuff from you, ducks," Calliope replied with a warm smile. "It's Calliope or nothing." She looked to Jack. "So what brings you about? I have seen you since…" She waved a hand casually in Theresa's direction.

"We had a bit of an issue at the _Bride_," Jack replied. "It seems Miss O'Brien can't keep herself out of trouble."

Duncan frowned. "Sir, she was _attacked_," he said with a hint of anger in his soft voice.

"Attacked?" Calliope exclaimed. "Oh, you poor duck. Come along, let's get you girls something warm to eat and cool to drink. And would you like baths? We can use my private quarters, you'll feel good as new…"

And with that, Genesis and Rosalyn were ushered out of the tavern area and back through a darkened hallway. Jack eyed Duncan for a moment, then went up to the bar.

"Rum all 'round for my boys, eh, Stephen?"

&

Calliope hadn't been joking about pampering the younger women. She had plates full of fresh bread, roasted pork, and juicy nectarines brought up on trays, along with pitchers of milk and water. The girls ate and drank with some colorful conversation, relating to Calliope their recent adventures. At one point, when Genesis mentioned the death of Barbossa, the woman quieted for a moment, but soon brushed it off, smiling and preparing the bath for the girls.

"So, Calliope," Genesis said, finishing off a glass of the sweet, frothy milk. "Where is Mister Miller?"

Calliope smiled softly. "Oh, David passed, a few years ago. A sickness."

"Oh," Genesis muttered. "I'm sorry."

"Ah, don't think on it," Calliope said. "He was a good man, lived a good life, short as it was. He and I made all this together." She waved a slender hand at the surroundings.

"Now," she said. "You duckies get all washed up. Just because you're sailing with Sparrow doesn't mean you have to pick up his pattern of hygiene."

&

"Quite the find you've got there, Sparrow."

Jack raised an eyebrow, and did not bother to turn around. "Katherine."

The tall form behind Jack stepped around him, revealing darkness from head-to-toe, from her deep chocolate hair to her tall black boots. The woman turned a chair around, straddling it and looking at him with a sinister smile. Not that the disturbed nature of her smile was her own fault; two long, curved scars bowed from the corners of her lips to her temples, the permanent, twisted grin marring otherwise stunning features. "You know I hate to be called that, Jack."

"I know," Jack replied with a twist of a smile.

The woman glared at him playfully, and glanced over across the crowded bar. The two young women that Jack had brought in with him were now sitting on the bar, the redhead strumming simple chords on a guitar Calliope's girls had provided, and the brunette singing along. "I thought you'd learned long ago not to take your women aboard."

Jack swung a dark glance Kat's way. He knew exactly what she was talking about. She'd been "his woman" years ago, before she'd earned her own ship. Unfortunately, she'd walked in on him with Giselle. In her bed. She'd chased him through Tortuga naked as the day he was born, waving her pistol like a madwoman. That gunshot on his chest that he'd shown to Elizabeth that day? Compliments of one Captain HellKat Thomas, back when she was only known as Kat.

"They're not my women," he replied. "Yet. Members of my crew. I picked 'em up recently. Going to see if they're worth the trouble."

"I'm surprised to see you about, Jackie," Kat replied, reaching over to pluck a grape from a bowl of fruit Calliope had brought over for the crew. "What with your indebted clock a-ticking."

Jack lofted a brow. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, love."

Kat tilted her head, popping one of the green fruits into her mouth. "I'm sure you do, mate," she replied. "Jones never forgets his business associates."

Jack cast a glance her way, eyes flashing dangerously. The name was not lost on him, after all. He'd made the deal with Jones to bring his ship, _The Wicked Wench,_ back from the depths where the East India Trading Company had sent it, and Jones had made good on his word, bringing the ship up and restoring it as _The Black Pearl_. Jack's end of the bargain, however, had remained unfulfilled. But how did Kat know that?

She seemed to read his mind (perhaps the look gave him away?) and smiled. "You talk in your sleep, mate," she said simply. "Particularly after a bottle of rum and a good bedding."

Jack grinned and almost chuckled, then realized that such a habit was hardly good for his reputation as a pirate, and his face grew solemn again. "And I suppose you merely came over to gloat over my extreme misfortune, eh, lass?" he said snidely.

Kat's smile also faded, and she affected a very pretty pout, an expression seldom seen on such an infamous murderer. "Aw, Jackie, you really think me so cruel?"

"You nailed my hat to the top of the mizzenmast..."

"Not an undeserved punishment for stealing my purse."

"…and cut the riggings…"

"You would've gotten the hat much easier with them, I had to do something."

"…and oiled the mast itself..."

"And you got halfway up before sliding back down and splintering up your nether regions. I was quite proud of you, actually."

"…and because of such treatment, aye, I do think you so cruel," Jack finished.

Kat grinned with all the pride of a mother told her nurturing skills were top-notch. "I appreciate the compliment, Jack, my dear, but in all honesty, I'm here to help, against all better judgment."

She slipped another grape between her lips and looked at him thoughtfully while she chewed. "Ever wonder why Jones doesn't die, Jack?"

Jack shrugged flippantly. "Some sort of demi-god or whatnot, I assumed. A relatively useless train of conversation, really, don't you think? Waxing philosophical and all that?"

"He's not a god, Jack," Kat said. "Supernatural, of course, but refreshingly mortal, if you know the secret."

Jack glanced at her with feigned indifference. "And I suppose you know, do you, Kitten?"

"I know something," she said. "Though the details, as handed to me, are inherently fuzzy, but you may be interested in setting the pieces together, given your current obligation."

Jack stared at her for a moment, sizing her up, and nodded that she should go on. Her twisted smile curved as her actual grin shone through. "You'll find your answers in the _Mağara_, a Turkish prison. You will have to find the highest tower, and search it. I've heard the secret to Jones' eternal life is found hidden in the walls there."

"Well, isn't that convenient?" Jack quipped. "And how might I find myself in this prison?"

"It has recently become the base of the Barbary corsairs," Kat replied. "The only way in…is as their prisoner."

"Cozy."

"And the high tower is reserved for their worst, where they send the prisoners who misbehave. I reckon you'll have little trouble with that."

"You always did underestimate my ability to remain couth and dignified in the face of danger, love," Jack said. "And once I'm in this tower of yours, likely waiting for the gallows or God knows what the corsairs do to the poor saps they capture, how exactly do I escape?"

"You can't," Kat said. "They do not release those in the high tower until they're dead, or until they're ready to be executed. Either way, it's a grim business. Which is where this comes in."

She reached for her belt, and Jack instinctively dropped from his chair, taking cover beneath the table. Kat rolled her eyes and produced a small, tube-shaped vial filled with a clear liquid. Jack, upon hearing neither gun cocking nor a blade being drawn from its scabbard, slowly peeked over the edge, raising an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"Three-Day Death," Kat said. "Capable of knocking a man unconscious to the point of near-death; Your breathing will halt, and the beating of your heart will become so low, and so faint, it's nigh undetectable. The results of it last for exactly seventy-two hours. And, lucky for us…that's exactly how long bodies are observed in the tower before they are removed and confirmed to be dead."

"Ah," Jack said, sitting back in his chair and taking up the bottle. "And where did you get this little draught, then?"

"Léa."

Jack nearly dropped the vial on the table; if there was one woman in the world that made him uneasy, it was the eccentric healer. He frowned at Kat. "Absolutely not. That crazy little Cajun already nearly killed me once, I'm not giving her the chance again."

"Oh, stop, Jack, Léa's a good woman. And she wasn't really going to shrink your head. Besides, I've used that stuff twice already, and it works exactly as I claimed."

Jack looked at the vial, and back at the dark woman before him. "Did she know you were giving this to me?" he asked, certain that Léa would definitely attempt to poison him someday.

"Of course not," Kat said. "I bought it for my own use."

Jack eyed her. "Why are you helping me?"

A surprisingly warm, loving smile lit up the HellKat's face, and she stood from her chair, circling over to where Jack sat. "Oh, Jackie," she said, stepping one long leg over him and sitting in his lap, straddling him. She wrapped her arms about his neck, pressing her body against him wantonly, nuzzling against his hair and placing her lips next to his ear, barely grazing the skin there.

"If anyone gets to kill you," she purred, "I decided long ago that it would be me."

She gave his pierced earlobe a nip, and slowly climbed off, allowing her fingers to linger softly under his chin and giving the thin braids there a sharp tug before sauntering off into the crowd. Jack couldn't help but admire her form as she disappeared.

"Let me guess," came a voice. "You hit that and lost it?"

Jack didn't bother looking around at Rosalyn's question. "Yes," he murmured, assuming that her phrasing, albeit odd, meant exactly what it did. "I 'hit' that."

Genesis' voice piped in last.

"You're an idiot."


	3. Good Company

Disclaimer: I, of course, do not own Pirates of the Caribbean

_Disclaimer: I, of course, do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. I do, however, own Genesis and Rosalyn, though they will never, ever, admit it. Kat and Theresa are characters of mine featured on the online RPG Code of the Brethren, and Calliope is likewise, though she is owned by the fabulous Bean Rua and has been borrowed with permission._

_Author's Note: This story is the sequel to Destinations: Really Bad Eggs. So do read that first, else much of this won't make sense. Especially the fact that these two strange women are aboard the _Pearl_. XD_

**Chapter Three: Good Company**

The next morning, the crew wasted no time in preparing the _Pearl_ for departure, though their captain was quite silent as to their eventual destination. They sailed in search of a very unique item, the likes of which existed nowhere else in the known (and likely unknown) world, though he failed to describe said item. Nor did he seem to give it any sort of name. Either way, curiosity and/or greed won out, and the crew asked no more questions as they got ready to head off. Gibbs had even managed to recruit two necessary crewmembers; an Indian man named Leech who would act as navigator, and a large African man named LeJon, who had a way with weapons (and never carried fewer than five firearms) who became the ship's master gunner. LeJon was rather quiet, and kept largely to himself, but Leech…well, Leech was a bit more outspoken. Especially when it came to his opinion on the efficacy of women on board. Jack, feeling Leech's comments questioned his authority, delivered appropriate punishment; he would show Rosalyn, who was to become a lookout, the ropes. Literally. And so, both girls were now learning the key duties that their respective jobs entailed.

"Now, loop it through that bit, there, Miss Gen. Aye, that's it, perfect!"

Gibbs held up a length of rope above his head, displaying it for his captain, who was manning the helm of the great, dark ship. "We got a natural, here, Cap'n!"

Jack peered down his nose at the stretch of rope in Gibbs' calloused hands, eyeing the sequence of five varying knots it held. His gaze slipped to the woman beside his first mate, and though he attempted to remain stoic in his appraisal of her, the corner of his mouth twitched upward. "So it would seem, Mister Gibbs," he replied. "Lucky for us, she's good for more than ogling, eh?"

Any other woman, particularly one of the modern, feminist age, may have been offended. Instead, Genesis merely laughed, slapping her hands together to clear off the dust of the ropes. "I can assure you, Captain, that I have many more talents of which you'll never have the pleasure of discovering for yourself."

She was rewarded with a hearty clap on the back and laugh from Gibbs, and a slightly insulted look from Jack. The captain was clearly about to retort, when they were interrupted by a very irritated and heavily accented voice above their heads.

"I swear to all that is holy and damned, if you do not move your useless arse, I will put another hole in it!"

"Oh-my-God-I'm-gonna-die-this-was-stupid-I'm-gonna-die."

Genesis looked up to see Rosalyn halfway up the riggings leading to the crow's nest dozens of feet above them. Roz was clinging to the ropes with the fervor of a child clutching to her mother's skirts, now clad in only breeches and a loose shirt. A foot below her dangled Leech, who was attempting to coax Rosalyn, with his typical amount of friendly sensitivity, into continuing the dizzying climb up to the crow's nest.

"I _told_ you not to look down, you useless wretch!" Leech barked.

"I am a _teenager_," Roz snapped back. "It's not genetically possible for me to do what I'm told!"

"You've only got three more months of that excuse," Gen called up good-naturedly. Well, assuming it was also February here, as it had been in their own time when they'd traveled back to the Caribbean. Rosalyn would be twenty in May…

"And a year after that, I'll be old enough to drink," Rosalyn said, suddenly looking rather thoughtful and content.

Jack finally broke his impassive demeanor, looking up at Rosalyn with a look that combined equal parts confusion and amusement. "A year and three months?" he inquired. "I suppose that wasn't you draining that bottle of tequila just a few hours ago?"

Roz groaned, letting go of the rope with one of her hands to rub her pounding head. "Don't remind me. AHH!" Realizing she was now held up by only three appendages, the free arm wrapped quickly about the ropes again. Genesis sniggered, and Roz shot a harsh look down. "Don't get too comfy there, dear, don't forget what you get to do after Knot Tying 101." She made a jerky nod to the mast nearby. Genesis looked up the fearsome-looking climb and swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry.

"I knew I should have taken longer on that last one," she muttered, eyeing the rope that Gibbs had tossed onto the crate that sat between the two of them.

"I'm not teaching that one to climb," came Leech's stern voice. "I'm a hair's breadth away from slitting my own throat as it is, without having to deal with both of them."

"I know how to climb," Gen argued, frowning. "And you're up there to show Roz the tricks to being a look-out, not how to climb."

"The latter is a bit of an added bonus, as it were," Jack offered in a chipper manner. Leech glared eye daggers at him, and began to swear in a lovely mix of English and Hindi. Jack's brow furrowed at a bit of it. "Well, that's just not right, Leech, insulting my mother like that."

Genesis snickered, and it seemed Rosalyn had silently laughed as well, as the only other thing those below heard was Leech once again threatening to create a new orifice for Rosalyn.

"Miss Morgan!"

Gen looked up to Jack, who was once again staring at the horizon, gently guiding the _Pearl_ through the gently rolling ocean. She smiled. "Aye, Captain?"

"A word."

"Antidisestablishmentarianism."

There was a moment of silence, and Jack finally sighed in exasperation. "Get over here, you bleedin' tart…"

Genesis snickered and rose from the low barrel she was perched on, moving to stand beside Jack. His eyes remained locked on the sea, and for a moment she merely looked with him silently, a slight smile on her face, merely enjoying the fresh sea air and warm sunlight.

After a bit, the silence became too much for Genesis, and she quirked a brow, looking at the man beside her out of the corner of her eye. "Said word, Captain?"

"Since when have you called me 'Captain?'"

"Since you became mine."

He smiled, clearly liking the sound of that.

"Not to mention, to call you 'Jack' would arouse the suspicions of the crew, and I'll be damned if I have people I'm so familiar with you," she added matter-of-factly. "In the biblical sense."

Now Jack did look at her, frowning. "And what's wrong with that?" he asked, insulted.

Genesis grinned, looking out over the water still. "Matter of principle is all, Jack," she said. She tilted her head toward him, eyes moving to his face. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Your position aboard this fine vessel, Miss Morgan," Jack said, moving his arms lithely as he glanced at the angle of the sun and steered the ship slightly northward.

A small line of confusion married Gen's brow. "I'm to be put in the riggings," she said.

"Aye, to be trained as a bo'sun," Jack said with a nod. He glanced at her. "Important job, that. Not everyone has the gall for it."

Gen's eyebrows raised in surprise. "And you think I have the gall?"

"Darling, you have more gall than any one person should be allowed to have," he replied, and Gen was sure that his tone carried not only admiration, but some vexation, and she smiled a bit.

"Gall?" she said thoughtfully. "Is that what it's called?"

"It was the nicest term I could conjure."

"Ah," she said with a nod. "Well, I'm flattered by your belief in my…abilities, Captain. Whether you've seen them put to work or otherwise."

"I wasn't finished," Jack said. Genesis raised a curious brow, but remained silent, waiting for him to continue. "In addition to working the riggings, you'll be providing…entertainment for the crew."

Genesis froze, stiffening next to him. "Oh?" was her only reply, said in a very rigid manner. She wished she hadn't even voiced that. A horrible scenario ran through her mind; had she and Rosalyn been brought aboard the _Pearl_ purely to be pleasurable company for the crew? The thought had never even surfaced in her mind before; she'd trusted Jack completely. She'd never thought he could be just as lecherous as some of the other pirates she'd read about.

Jack noticed his crewwoman's sudden tenseness, and he gave an affronted snort. "Gen, love, honestly!" he said, looking very disappointed indeed.

Gen relaxed slightly; Jack's reaction was enough to prove to her that her fears were unfounded. "Well, what do you mean, then?"

"I couldn't help but notice your considerable musical skills in back at _The Faithful Bride_," Jack said in an offhanded tone.

Genesis smirked, remembering how she'd once quelled a brawl in the tavern by climbing onto a table in a revealing outfit whilst singing a rather suggestive song from a Broadway musical. "Couldn't help but notice?" she said, amused. "They were sitting in your lap at one point, if I recall correctly, Captain."

"Ah, yes," Jack said with a fond smile, looking thoughtful for a moment, reminiscing. He glimpsed her way, grin broadening. "That being said, I expect you to continue such performances aboard the _Pearl_."

Gen thought on this for a moment; she knew entertainment was hard to come by on ships; boredom was just as likely to kill sailors as scurvy or sea battle. Singing and dancing with the crew? And that was to be her job? Well, part of her job, but still, she could see absolutely no downside.

"Absolutely, Captain," she said with a smile. She glanced up at Rosalyn, who had nearly reached the platform at the top of the mast she and Leech were scaling. "You know, Rosalyn is a musician herself. If, perhaps, she were to come by an instrument…a guitar perhaps?"

"Done," Jack said, looking pleased. "Soon as we make it to the next port, I'll find our drunken little Irish rose a guitar."

Rosalyn, meanwhile, had finally made it up into the crow's nest, with much complaining from her and much cursing from Leech. Once she was certain that each of the boards holding the tiny bit of space aloft would truly hold her weight, she grinned at Leech.

"Well, that wasn't that bad, was it?" she asked cheerfully. Leech responded by thrusting a spyglass into the redhead's hands and mumbling crossly in Hindi and what sounded like a bit of Spanish. Roz merely grinned.

"Hey, 'puta,' I've heard that one before!" she exclaimed, then raised the spyglass to one green eye…before crying out and lowering it, clutching her eye. "It buuuurrrrns!"

"Then don't look into the sun, you stupid git!" Leech growled, cuffing the woman upside the head.

"Oh," said a still-winking Roz. "Right." She raised the spyglass again, careful not to raise it into the sun's brightness, nor too near any part of the water that the sun was reflecting off of too brilliantly. She swept her magnified gaze slowly across the water.

"Hmm…well, this is exciting," she said as she began to slowly turn in a full circle, eyeing the horizon in all directions. "So I get about four hours of this at a time?"

"Twice a day."

"Fantastic," Roz deadpanned. She had made her way nearly 180 degrees when she stopped, brow furrowing above the spyglass. Her jaw dropped slightly. "Oh…penis."

Leech's eyes widened at the strange choice of expletive. "What?"

But Rosalyn ignored him, instead dropping the spyglass into Leech's hands and leaning over the railing of the crow's nest.

"Captain!" she yelled down. "We've got a problem, six o'clock!"

Leech quickly raised the spyglass to his own dark eye, looking directly behind the _Pearl_ and swore. There, on the horizon, were familiar, pristine white sails, the red, white and blue of Britain's flag whipping proudly above them. He followed Rosalyn's example, leaning over the railing to shout down to Sparrow.

"It's the bluecoats, Captain!" he barked. Jack and Genesis both sprang into action below, Gibbs taking the helm while the pair ran back to see for themselves. Jack took out his own spyglass, Genesis at his elbow.

"Are they right, Jack?" she asked, apparently abandoning the captain title in her panic.

"Aye," he muttered grimly. "Bloody Norrington, I'd reckon."

"Commodore Norrington?" Genesis said quietly, squinting toward the horizon, toward the boat she'd never be able to see with her naked eye. Jack handed her the spyglass, and she too looked through it to spot the naval vessel.

"But I'd figured he was letting us go," she said with a frown, lowering the glass. "After he didn't come after us yesterday." She remembered the tense hours they'd spent on the _Pearl_ the day before, waiting with baited breath, all looking behind them for the first signs of the _Dauntless_ pulling out of Port Royal after them.

"Clearly, he changed his mind," Jack said gruffly, snatching the spyglass back from her. He glanced at her, watching her peer out at the ocean in the _Dauntless'_ direction with a curious expression. "You'll be getting started now, then."

His words snapped her attention back to him. "Started?"

"Riggings."

Gen swung her head around to look at the mast with an expression that was best described as nauseatingly terrified. "The…rig-…riggings?"

"Oh, nothing to worry yourself over, love," he said, throwing a companionable arm about her shoulders. "Just a little climbing; Gibbs'll shout every command loud and clear, and all you need to worry your pretty little head about is doing as he says. And avoid plummeting a few dozen feet or so."

"Gee…thanks."

"Quite welcome," Jack said. He gave her rear end a playful swat. "Now off with you. We've got a pompous git to outrun."


	4. Another One Bites the Dust

Disclaimer: I, of course, do not own Pirates of the Caribbean

_Disclaimer: I, of course, do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. I do, however, own Genesis and Rosalyn, though they will never, ever, admit it. _

_Author's Note: This story is the sequel to Destinations: Really Bad Eggs. So do read that first, else much of this won't make sense. Especially the fact that these two strange women are aboard the _Pearl_. XD_

**Chapter Four: Another One Bites the Dust**

"Hard to port! Hard to port!"

"What the bloody hell does that mean?!"

"That way!"

So, Jack had been wrong. It was slightly more complicated than Gibbs simply telling Genesis what to do, as Gibbs was apparently speaking an entirely different language than what Gen was used to. So, most of the orders were not only given twice, but had to be translated and even mimed half of the time. Genesis decided, at that moment, that Roz's job as a lookout was highly preferable to that of a rigging rat.

Even so, Genesis, once she figured out what Gibbs was instructing her to do, was a quick worker for someone so new to the task, and managed to follow the first mate's directions well enough. The _Dauntless_ was becoming a smaller and smaller speck on the horizon, and some of the crew had even begun to celebrate their escape.

A little too soon.

A change in the wind hit the side of the dark ship so roughly that Rosalyn cried out, being thrown against the railing of the crow's nest. Leech had long since left her to her own devices, scurrying down and into the sails to aid their fellow sailors. She wasn't sure if she remained in the nest by choice, or from fear of the trip back down the ropes unaccompanied. Either way, she now clung to the railing of the small area like it was life itself. She watched as the sails caught this new, southerly wind and jerked violently to one side, sending the ship itself in a sharp curve to the right. She also watched as most of the crew tumbled to the deck, some just barely saving themselves by snatching wildly at the canvas and ropes around them, Genesis among them. Roz looked back to the _Dauntless_; it was easily following this new path, smoothly carving through the water as it tailed them. And increased speed.

"The _Dauntless_ is gaining, Captain!" she cried down. She watched as Jack turned to see the white-sailed ship himself, then spun the helm violently, desperate to regain the wind's favor. Her eyes glanced at the naval ship again, before she looked sternward across the water. She paled.

"_SANDBAR, CAPTAIN, STRAIGHT AHE—"_

It was too late. With a vicious, jarring impact they hit the nearly hidden sandbar, the keel of the _Pearl_ dragging roughly across the relatively smooth surface of the veiled hazard. Rosalyn had thankfully hit the floorboards of the crow's nest before the ship had collided, else she likely would have been pitched forward and down a hundred feet to the deck below. Once the ship came to a halt, she finally managed to clamber to her feet and survey the damage.

A couple of her crewmembers were not so lucky. Genesis watched in horror as Marty the dwarf, who'd scrambled up into the riggings to retie a loosened knot, plummeted down fifty feet, landing on the deck with a sickening crunch. Someone screamed his name, and it took her a moment to realize that it was indeed her. She remained frozen, clinging desperately to the riggings lest the ship jar so violently again, and looked down at Marty's form. He finally shifted, a strangled groan issuing from his throat, and she cried out in relief; he may have been hurt, but at least the high fall had not been fatal.

But then her eyes fell on another form laying by the helm, and she cried out in a choked manner and began to clumsily make her way down the ropes. Her feet hit the deck running and she hurried over to Jack's side, lifting his head.

"Oh, God, don't be dead, don't be dead, how the hell would you be dead?" She frowned; he'd been _at_ the helm…he must have fallen and knocked himself out on the large wheel itself. She bent her head to his ear; yes, he was breathing. She cradled his head in her lap, gently tapping her fingers against his cheeks, unable to rouse him.

"Lighten the ship!" someone suddenly bellowed. "Get the keel up. We can skate her by!"

"We can't afford t' lose the store," Gibbs shouted back as Rosalyn scrambled down from the riggings with a bit less ease and grace than the other crew members who had been above with her. "We spent most o' the ship's prize on this lot, and without havin' landed a replacement...we're as good as dead without the food and rum."

"Can't we fight them off?" Roz said desperately. "Fire on them and keep them away?"

"In case you have yet to notice," Leech said, "we lack rear guns." He pointed to the bow of the ship, where, indeed, there was a certain need of cannons. Genesis bit her lip.

"Once they board then?" she tried. "Simply fend them off that way?"

Gibbs shook his head. "A ship like the _Dauntless_ carries at least seven hundred men."

Genesis made a growl of frustration; their dozen or so bodies had no chance whatsoever. She looked down at Jack, placing her hand over his chin and shaking his head vigorously. "Oh, wake up, you stupid, drunken louse," she moaned. She looked up, seeing the white sails approaching quickly over the railing of the _Pearl_, and looked weakly to Gibbs. "There's nothing we can do, is there?"

"No, lass," he said quietly. "There's not."

&

Norrington had been wise in his approach. Genesis watched as the _Dauntless_ curved slightly west then swooped back in, coming along the back of the Pearl in a perpendicular line, so that her guns lined up with the black ship, and the _Pearl_, with her lack of bow guns, was helpless.

Commodore James Norrington, meanwhile, was watching the pirate ship carefully, and noted something interesting; Sparrow was nowhere to be seen on its decks. Most of the crew was up top, looking as helpless as sheep to the slaughter. Except one. A woman stood at the bow, looking out with what appeared to be a stoic curiosity as the naval ship approached. Her hair was loose, and whipped around her face in brown waves. Genesis Morgan. So Sparrow had indeed kept the woman, and likely the other, Rosalyn O'Brien, aboard his ship. James could only imagine what they were kept for; the very thought made him curl his lip. How women were so fooled into becoming Sparrow's personal playthings was too far beyond his scope.

"They've yet to raise the white, sir," said Lieutenant Gillette, sidling up next to his commander. James raised his eyes to the mainmast, indeed seeing no colors, not even Sparrow's own, being flown.

"This ship is run by pure stubbornness and effrontery, Lieutenant," James replied. "They'd rather be thrown to the sea than admit defeat."

"That may be true, but they look awfully…unprepared for a battle," Gillette replied.

James had to agree. None of the pirates looked ready to defend the ship; they looked rather…defeated. James had to smile very slightly at this. Stubborn they may have been, but they certainly knew when they were defeated.

"'Allo, Commodore!"

He looked back to the ship, spotting the young woman once again. He expected a cheeky grin to be plastered upon her youthful face, but instead, he found complete seriousness there.

"Nice of you to pay a visit," she said with a grin as the _Dauntless_ slid to a stop a mere fifteen feet or so from the _Pearl's_ bow. So much for that complete seriousness.

"Good day, Miss Morgan," he replied, mimicking the false casualness of her tone. "I notice that you seem to have forgotten to raise a white flag."

She frowned and looked up at the mainmast for a moment, before looking back to him. "Would you believe we don't have one? Barbossa must not have been much for giving up. In fact, I believe the only really white thing we have is the shirt on my back. But if it's an absolute necessity…"

James watched as her fingers reached for the ties of her bodice, about to loosen it and strip it away, and he realized her intent. He scowled, forcing his eyes to move back to her face, which featured a knowing smile. "Not an absolute necessity, Miss Morgan," he growled. "You are under arrest for piracy, as are your fellow crewmates. And your captain, who seems to have gone into hiding."

Genesis shook her head, and suddenly disappeared from sight. Norrington and Gillette both simultaneously drew their pistols, ready for her to reappear with a similar weapon. Instead, they heard a lot of groaning, grunting, and a bit of cursing, when she suddenly appeared again, arms full of the upper part of Jack Sparrow's body. Norrington's eyes widened. "Dead?"

"Of course not," she said, dropping Jack and letting him fall back to the floor with a thud. He groaned slightly, but did not stir. "See, your lovely little game of tag made us hit this convenient little sand bar, and he was knocked out in the collision."

James couldn't believe his luck. A leaderless _Pearl_. And Jack Sparrow could not talk. It was too good to be true.

Genesis sighed. "Come on over, Commodore," she finally said in a soft manner that actually surprised him. "You'll find no fight here."


	5. Loser in the End

Disclaimer: I, of course, do not own Pirates of the Caribbean

_Disclaimer: I, of course, do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. I do, however, own Genesis and Rosalyn, though they will never, ever, admit it. _

_Author's Note: This story is the sequel to Destinations: Really Bad Eggs. So do read that first, else much of this won't make sense. Especially the fact that these two strange women are aboard the _Pearl_. XD_

**Chapter Five: The Loser in the End**

The brig of the _Dauntless_ was unabashedly more pleasant than that of the _Black Pearl_. It was dry and clean, and considerably larger. Once again, the crew in its entirety was grouped in one larger cell; it seemed that the others were to be saved in case another pirate or enemy ship was captured. After all, fifteen men were hardly worth taking up the entire brig for.

Genesis and Rosalyn were currently seated on the floor, Jack reclined between them, beginning to come to. He looked back and forth between the two women groggily, as if unsure that he recognized them. "Where…"

"We're on the _Dauntless_," Roz said. "Norrington caught us."

Jack's only response was a pained groan, and Genesis furrowed her brow in concern. "Maybe he's got a concussion," she said. "We'll need to keep him awake."

"Did you check for a bump?" Roz asked. "Is he bleeding?"

"No, I don't know," Gen replied. "Check."

"Are you kidding?" Roz said. She pointed to Jack's impressive mane of hair. "I'm not putting my hand in there. I might not get it back."

Gen was about to retort when the door to the brig opened, and Commodore Norrington and a couple of midshipmen entered the area. They approached the cell and eyed the inhabitants.

"Ah, good, he's awake," Norrington said simply. "Back away from the door, I'd like to take your captain for a word."

The pirates obeyed, backing away from the door that the marine guard was now unlocking, but Gen piped up.

"A word?" she said. "He can hardly state his own name."

"And how is that different from any other given evening, Miss Morgan?" Norrington said with a self-satisfied smirk.

"Because usually that's all he ever seems to say," she retorted. Norrington raised a brow.

"Either he pleads the case of himself and the crew now, or you are all doomed to the gallows," said one of the midshipmen.

"Not that there's much chance for salvation even if he does," said the other with a snicker. Norrington tossed a glance his way, and the young man immediately hushed.

Genesis looked from Norrington, to the now-murmuring Jack, and back to the commodore, looking very helpless indeed. She finally bit her lip and stood, back straight and chin up. "I request to stand in my captain's place."

"Miss Gen, I don't know if that's the best idea," Gibbs said, placing a hand on her arm. "Ye don't know the protocols fer a parley; there's rules t' be followed…"

Genesis merely continued to look at Norrington, eyes determined. "Would you rather have protocol, Commodore," she said. "Or honesty?"

"Honesty, Miss Morgan?" Norrington said with dark amusement. "What would you know of honesty?"

She smirked. "More than my captain, I can assure you."

For a moment, Norrington simply looked at her, reading her face, her eyes, her body language. She remained still, face blank, eyes a mixture of earnestness and resolve. Finally, he nodded. "Very well, Miss Morgan," he said. "Parley."

The marine opened the door, and Genesis stepped through. One of the midshipmen carried shackles, and Genesis raised her hands expectantly.

"Unnecessary," the other officer said. "She's unarmed."

Genesis couldn't help but grin. And Norrington couldn't help but be unnerved by the expression. "Entirely necessary," he said shortly, earning an even broader grin from the girl as the shackles were placed upon her wrists.

Irons in place, the foursome made their way up through the levels of the large vessel. James was actually pleasantly surprised by the behavior of his prisoner; despite some ogling from the sailors (all of whom hadn't seen a woman for well over a week), Morgan remained quiet and quite stoic, head held high despite her chained wrists. He only glanced back at her once, and his glimpse was returned with such a cool, collected look that he found himself almost humbled. It was the impression of a powerful woman, serene and all business. He wondered how her mind managed it, having a raving madwoman and a near-professional ambassador living in the same vessel.

They finally reached his cabin, and she followed him inside without a word, catching a glimpse of the _Pearl_ being towed behind the massive English warship. Norrington nodded to the two midshipmen, and they left, closing the door behind them. Norrington looked to Genesis, and found her fidgeting with her hands, a small dimple between her brows; the slightest sign of discomfort. "No need to be nervous, Miss Morgan," he said simply.

"Says the man _not_ negotiating for his life."

James lofted a brow, and moved to a table. Genesis followed, and he circled around her, pulling out a chair. She stared at him blankly.

"Have a seat, Miss Morgan," he instructed. She looked down at the chair, then back at him.

"Is this a joke?"

He scowled. "Do I appear to be in a joking humor?"

After another disbelieving hesitation, Genesis lowered herself into the chair and allowed him to push it in underneath her. As he circled around to his own chair, Genesis' eyes followed him like a hawk, a skeptical brow still raised. "Why did you do that?"

"Hm?"

"You pulled out a chair for me," she said, her tone insinuating that she would have been less surprised if he'd jumped overboard and walked on water. "Why?"

He merely looked back at her for a moment as he sat down, wondering why himself. He'd done it purely out of instinct, after years of being trained to be chivalrous to ladies, holding doors, picking up kerchiefs…pulling out chairs. His upbringing was beginning to show; even this scallywag in breeches brought out his courtly side.

He shook his head. "It hardly matters," he replied. "We have far more important matters to discuss, Miss Morgan."

"Indeed," she murmured, staring at her lap. She glanced up. "Er…Gibbs wasn't lying, when he said I didn't know the protocols for these sorts of things…"

He sighed, and leaned back slightly in his chair. "You may plead your case, or that of your crew, as you see fit," he explained, his voice straining the line between understanding and annoyance at the girl's naivety of their current situation. He, on the other hand, had been in such a situation many a time; he preferred to allow a captain of a captured vessel to plead the case of himself or any member of his crew. More often than not, a pirate left his crew to the wolves, trying to save himself. He expected no different now.

Genesis nodded, her brow furrowed in thought. "LeJon and Leech were recently picked up in Tortuga," she began. "They had no part in any of the events involving the Isla de Muerta, nor do I know of any history of piracy in their pasts; they're just sailors. And technically, the rest of the crew had nothing to do with the ship-jacking either; they were all hired in Tortuga after we stole the _Interceptor,_ so they were only there for the Isla de Muerta thing, innocent of anything but going to Will's aid. And you were with Rosalyn the entire time; you know she's guilty of nothing but pretending to be a maid."

She paused. "And Jack…"

Norrington lofted a brow once again; this was bound to be entertaining.

"Jack's a good man," she said. "He's a pirate, yes. I can't absolve him of it, or try to make up an excuse as to how he isn't guilty of it. But he's a good man."

Norrington scoffed, and her face grew desperate. "Please, Commodore, hear me out," she said. "His recent acts are nothing if not noble at heart, despite shady methods. He stole the _Interceptor_ in order to help Will save Elizabeth, right? And save her he did; had he not, I highly doubt she'd have been rescued at all."

Norrington was silent. Of course he knew that she was right, as he'd thought similarly. But fair was fair; he'd given Sparrow the chance to escape, and the pirate had failed to do so successfully. He nodded, then looked at her curiously. "And is that all, Miss Morgan?"

Her eyes narrowed, and she looked down to the table with a creased brow, clearly going over her own words in her mind. "Yes," she said uncertainly. "I think so."

He was surprised, to say the least. She'd spoken for everyone on the _Pearl_…save herself. It was a first for him; even the most selfless of pirates he'd met always defended themselves along with their crews. Yet this young woman had not only failed to speak for herself, but seemed to have forgotten to entirely in her concern for her crew's safety. Or she was doing so purposefully, an act to gain his sympathy with a show of pure altruism. He eyed the girl carefully, and when she noticed his scrutiny, she shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Such a curious thing; when she was around Sparrow, she was cocky, overly sure of herself, a cunning little minx who seemed to know that she had control of a situation even when she didn't. But here, alone with him, no other infamous pirate in sight, she was more timid, irresolute. Alone with him, she was human.

"Very well, Miss Morgan," he said, rising from his chair. She hurriedly did the same.

"You'll let us go?" she said hopefully.

"I'm afraid not," he said. "However, given your argument, I may be able to have your case, and that of your aforementioned crewmembers, brought before the king. Chances of being pardoned may be slim, but it will give you a chance that merely being taken back to Port Royal and its gallows would not."

"And what of Jack?"

He stilled, and looked to her. "Such loyalty," he said, not hiding the surprise in his tone. "Why do I have the feeling that he is more than simply a captain to you?"

Her eyes narrowed at his implication, and she took a step back from him. He'd hit a tender spot, it seemed.

"He is," she said flatly. "He's my friend."

They stood there for a moment, each studying the other, until he could no longer handle being under that gaze and moved to the door. He opened it, stepping back to allow her to leave his office and fall under the hands of the two midshipmen that waited outside the door.

"Good day, Miss Morgan," he said stiffly as she passed him. She paused, glanced up at him.

"Commodore," she said with a nod of her head. He watched as she disappeared with the guards below, and taking one last breath of the fresh sea air, closed the door to his cabin again, retreating into the solitude there to ponder this recent development.


	6. Stone Cold Crazy

Disclaimer: I, of course, do not own Pirates of the Caribbean

_Disclaimer: I, of course, do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. I do, however, own Genesis and Rosalyn, though they will never, ever, admit it. _

_Author's Note: This story is the sequel to Destinations: Really Bad Eggs. So do read that first, else much of this won't make sense. Especially the fact that these two strange women are aboard the _Pearl_. XD_

**Chapter Six: Stone Cold Crazy**

It had been two weeks. Two of the longest weeks of Rosalyn's relatively short life. They remained stuck in the brig of the _Dauntless_, and the cell they shared felt smaller and smaller every day. It was hot, dark, and increasingly less pleasing in odor by the day, seeing as she and Genesis had been the only ones to bathe recently. For a while, the group had entertained themselves with amusing stories, jokes, and anecdotes, but that grew weary as the hours drew on, and they now merely sat in silence, miserable in their calm. Little hope had been placed in Genesis' news that they would all be receiving possible pardon from the king. Even now they were sailing across the Atlantic back to England to have their case heard; it gave them a few more weeks to live, but what kind of life was this, after all?

Jack was back at full capacity; Rosalyn and Gen had taken turns staying up that first night, to ensure that he did not slip back into unconsciousness. Having two very worried women mothering him seemed to rub Jack the wrong way, as he was very short with both of them. Particularly Genesis, whom he managed to blame not only for their capture, but for failing to convince Norrington into freeing them immediately. His complaints, however, ended quite abruptly after a good threat to knock his "drunken, useless, clumsy, syphilis-ridden arse" out again. Once he was properly shut up and simply accepted that the pair were going to continue to watch his health like hawks, they turned some attention to Marty, who was nursing a broken arm with a makeshift splint courtesy of Rosalyn's shoddy tailoring skills and the limited abilities of Crimp, the _Pearl's_ surgeon. The dwarf was in pain, but other than that, his injury was fairly minor; no sign of infection, and the break itself wasn't too messy, from what they could tell.

All in all, the crew was well enough, although bored out of their minds and worried for their own welfare once they reached the bonny shores of England. Genesis was busy plaiting a few strands of her hair into small decorative braids, and Rosalyn seemed to be half-asleep, her lap having become a pillow for a snoozing Duncan. All was peaceful, quiet.

"_I got it!"_

The harsh whisper caught everyone's attention, save that of the half-dozing marine guard standing at one end of the brig. All heads jerked in Rosalyn's direction, who was now quite alert and positively beaming. She motioned for them all to come closer, and began to weave out her plan in hushed tones.

&

"Hey, you! Red…dude….man…"

The marine woke up with a slight snort, looking up to see a pale hand waving through the bars of the cell. He frowned and stood slowly, making his way over while staying out of reach of the feminine hand. "What is it?"

"I need relief," Rosalyn replied. The soldier frowned.

"You just got your privacy a couple of hours ago."

"Yes, but this is…a bit of an emergency," she replied. The soldier scowled, then nodded.

"All right," he said. "But no funny business, girl."

Rosalyn nodded as he unlocked the door and allowed her to slip out. He followed her up through the decks to the bow of the ship, where a temporary outhouse had been constructed over the head, due to the new presence of women aboard. Rosalyn disappeared into this makeshift restroom, only to peek her head out with a sheepish look.

"Er…issue," she said.

"What is it now?" asked the marine irritably.

"It appears to be my…er…time," Rosalyn said, her voice strained with embarrassment.

"Your time?" He looked genuinely confused.

"My…cycle?"

A blank look.

"Look," she said. "There's a lot of blood and it's coming from a very undesirable place on my anatomy. Get it? I need some clean rags. Stat."

The marine, having had the situation finally dawn on him, looked horrified at his dreadful luck. Rosalyn stared at him for a moment.

"NOW."

The marine, unsure of what to do in the face of a screaming, menstruating woman, quickly scampered off without even thinking of the consequences of doing so. When he was out of sight, Rosalyn quickly slipped out of the little hovel and slid behind it, finding the thick ropes that tethered the _Pearl _to the _Dauntless_. Her hands made quick work of the security ropes, leaving them loosely dangled around one last, thick rope. She heaved a deep sigh, biting her lip in anxiety.

_Please God, let this work…_

She heard footsteps rounding the captain's cabin, and she quickly stole back into the little outhouse. The marine knocked on the door, and when she peeked out, he held a small amount of clean cloth at arm's length, eyes averted and face as red as his jacket. She was suddenly glad that she did this, rather than Gen; the brunette, with her weakness for men in uniform, would have jumped the poor man in his adorable awkwardness. Rosalyn, however, took the cloth, disappeared for the illusion of putting it to use, then walked back out, allowing the embarrassed marine to lead her back to the crew's cell. Once he'd locked the door and hurried away, Rosalyn gave the crew a wink, which was rewarded with relieved smiles.

&

"Help! Someone, please! _Help!_"

The feminine cry woke up a quarter of the crew, and the marine guard quickly ran over to the cell, followed by Gillette, who'd been passing directly above the brig. They came upon quite the sight; most of the crew was pressed against the walls of the cell, and the center of it was inhabited only by the young woman, Genesis Morgan, and the dwarf, who was writhing violently on the floor, soaked in sweat and moaning horribly.

Genesis looked up, pretty face contorted in terror. "Please!" she exclaimed. "He's burning up! His break…I think it's infected or something."

Gillette and the marine glanced at each other, as if silently asking each other what to do. Genesis looked even more frazzled and upset instantly. "Please!" she shrieked. "Just take him above! He needs air! And medical attention! Please, you can't just let him die this way, it's…it's inhumane!"

Gillette looked to the young woman, one he'd dealt with before, and he realized he'd never seen her like this. He'd never seen her so terrified. He looked to the marine and nodded for him to open the door, then looked to the crew. "Back away," he said seriously. He nodded to Genesis. "Bring him towards the door."

Genesis nodded, and dragged the squirming man toward the door with many grunts and heaves between choked sobs. The marine opened the door hastily and took the man, handing him over to Gillette and moving to shut the door again. Marty's body suddenly went quite mad, thrashing about as odd gurgling noises echoed from his throat. Genesis gasped.

"He's seizing!" she cried. "Quick, put something leather between his teeth; he'll bite his tongue off!"

The marine made short work of taking off his belt and placing it between Marty's jaws between clenches. Unfortunately, he'd yet to secure the door in place, and Genesis barreled through it with a harsh growl, sending him toppling into Gillette and to the floor. Marty immediately leapt to his feet, and taking Gillette's pistol, gave each of the men a solid smash to the head as they scrambled to their feet. They crumpled, and the crew quickly slipped out of the cell. Genesis relieved Gillette of his sword, while Gibbs and Jack took the marine's pistol and blade. Rosalyn glanced around, and spotting a mop, ran over, kicked the mop-end off of the rest of the stick, and spun it once to get its feeling of weight. She pointed to the door. "Up and left," she whispered, having paid close attention to the route to the upper decks. "Stay close."

She led the way through the ship, most of the soldiers currently at mess, and they only encountered a couple of soldiers that she and Genesis, being in the front and back, had to dispatch. They finally made it up and to the bow of the ship without too much hassle, and the crew slowly began to inch themselves up the final rope. Gibbs and Genesis were last, when Genesis stepped away, glancing back at the ship.

"What is it, lass?" he said, pistol at the ready. She placed a hand on his arm and nodded toward the rope.

"Go," she said with a grin. "I'll disable her rudder."

Gibbs returned the grin. "Aye, there's a good lass," he said jovially as he began to shimmy up the thick rope. Genesis slipped around the shoddy privacy structure to reach the top of immense rudder's structure, and was just about to reach into the works of it, as she'd seen Jack and Will do to the _Interceptor_, when she felt a very familiar sensation of sharp steel at her back.

"I would not suggest finishing your task, if I were you."

She closed her eyes at the sound of his voice, and slowly raised her hands where he could see them. "You wouldn't happen to believe I was just admiring the view, would you?" she asked.

"Unlikely."

She slowly began to move to turn around, only to feel the blade dig more sharply into her back, the top just barely nicking her skin. "I'm not going to attack you, Commodore," she said. "I have a sneaking suspicion that you would have me skewered faster than you can say 'WTF?'"

There was a brief pause; Genesis was certain that he was racking his brain trying to figure out her odd phrase. In that time, she slowly began lowering her hand to Gillette's sword that was stuck in her belt. "I'm going to take off the sword," she said in warning. "It's Lieutenant Gillette's and I'm sure he'll want it back. He and a marine are in the brig, likely still unconscious."

He allowed her to remove the sword from its scabbard with an aching slowness, and she held it out behind her by the blade, allowing him to take it. He frowned. "Why are you telling me this?"

"So you can send someone to make sure they're all right," she said in reply. "Marty hit them sort of hard; I want to make sure they'll be okay."

There was silence, and the sword was suddenly pulled away from her back. "Turn around."

She obeyed, turning to face him in his entire glory; full uniform, sword pointed at her throat, handsome features stone-like.

"Why didn't you plead your case?" he asked suddenly.

She frowned in confusion. "Come again?"

"The other day, in my cabin," he said. "You spoke for everyone; the crew, your Rosalyn, Sparrow. Everyone but yourself. Why?"

She raised her eyebrows in surprise; she hadn't even realized that she'd forgotten to defend herself in their conversation. She shrugged lightly. "I suppose…I simply remembered that I serve others, not only myself."

He froze, her words sounding hauntingly familiar. But no, that couldn't be; she hadn't been there when he'd said something similar to Sparrow. It was a freakish coincidence, nothing more. He tilted his head slightly, eyeing her thoughtfully.

"And do you believe that they would echo your noble philosophy?" he asked. "Once they realized you've yet to follow, will they sacrifice their own chance at freedom to save you?"

At this, she paused, racking her brain for an answer. The Code loomed in her mind; she fell behind. She would stay behind. Unless Rosalyn had anything to do with it.

"One of them will," she said quietly. Norrington's eyes shifted to the dark ship, the forms of its crew scuttling over the rope to its stern. Sparrow was already at the helm; he'd clearly made sure that he crossed first. Typical.

"You women will never learn, will you?" he said in slight disbelief. "You have grand illusions of Sparrow being this noble man, but he's nothing but a pirate, a liar. You and Elizabeth seem to--"

"Do _not_ compare me to Elizabeth!"

The exclamation was quiet, but it held such a lacing of steel that Norrington's words died, and he stared at the woman before him.

"I may pretend to be something I'm not," she said cryptically. "I may be a liar, and a thief, and a pirate…but I do not drag the hearts of those around me into my games. I would never have used you like she did…and…"

Her voice faded as his eyes widened at her short rant. Her mouth shut with an audible snap. They both remained silent for a good while, until he finally broke it.

"One hour."

She blinked. "What?"

"I will give you and your crew one hour," he elaborated, lowering his sword. "I believe it's far more generous than what you deserve, considering you already had a day's head start once."

"You're…letting me go?" she said, clearly bemused.

"I'm naïve to your absence," he corrected. "And I will only be so for roughly another fifty-nine minutes."

She released something that sounded vaguely like a choked sob, and dropped her hands from their spot on either side of her head. She made as if to turn, but stopped and took a step toward him. He stiffened, and she hesitantly rose up on her toes, brushing her lips against his cheek. "You're a good man, James Norrington," she murmured before stepping back. "I swear to you, if I ever get the chance, I'll repay you tenfold."

She flashed him a smile then; not her normal, cheeky grin, not a snarky smirk. It was a genuine, happy, thankful smile. She turned and hopped up onto the railing, then looked back at him.

"And just because you look so good in that uniform, I'll refrain from disabling your rudder, as planned," she said, the smirk returning. She jumped onto the remaining rope that tethered the _Pearl_ to the _Dauntless_, and looked back at him. "Commodore, if you please?"

He was still in shock from the chaste kiss that he'd allowed her to bestow upon him, and it took him a moment to realize what she was asking. He sighed, knowing that this was most certainly a horrible idea and that it would probably come back to bite him in the end, and let his sword drop heavily against the rope, severing it cleanly in two and sending the young woman plummeting to the waters below.

"May God have mercy on both our souls, Miss Morgan," he murmured. He closed his eyes. This was simply a headache just waiting to happen.


	7. Keep Yourself Alive

_Disclaimer: I, of course, do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. I do, however, own Genesis and Rosalyn, though they will never, ever, admit it. _

_Author's Note: This story is the sequel to Destinations: Really Bad Eggs. So do read that first, else much of this won't make sense. Especially the fact that these two strange women are aboard the _Pearl_. XD_

**Chapter 7: Keep Yourself Alive**

Norrington made good on his word, as Genesis knew he would, but though he did not alert the rest of the ship that their prisoners had escaped and were now back aboard the _Pearl_, it did not take long for the King's Navy to figure it out for themselves. After all, it was rather difficult for a black galleon to sail away in broad daylight without being noticed.

Genesis had barely scrambled over the railing of the _Pearl_ when she heard the shout raised on the _Dauntless_. She turned her head as she collapsed onto the black planks, but lacked the strength to get up to look. She felt the _Pearl_ catch the wind's favor and begin to veer south, further breaking itself off of the _Dauntless'_ path.

"This is not the time for napping, Miss Morgan."

Genesis looked up wearily to see Jack's familiar silhouette hovering above her like some misguided guardian angel.

"Sorry," she snarked. "I just got a bit worn out from being held at swordpoint by a commodore and having to practically swim a half mile at the end of a semi-stable rope, that's all, Captain."

Jack curled his lip, an expression that made Genesis frown a tad. She told him she practically died…_twice_…and all he could do is _grimace_?

The expression faded from the captain's face, and he gave her a terse nod. "That'll be all then, Miss Morgan," he said simply. "To the riggings with you."

Genesis blinked a few times as Jack walked away, anger rising visibly in her as her cheeks flushed. "Why you selfish, inconsiderate, son of a—"

"Easy, lass!"

She was paused in her cursing as a heavy hand landed on her slick shoulder. She looked up to see Gibbs and stood. Or attempted to. The swim really had exhausted her. The older man nodded, glancing at Jack for a moment before looking back down at Genesis.

"Take t' yer cabin, Miss Gen," he said in a hushed tone. "Yer no good t' us when ye can barely put a foot in front o' th' other."

Genesis nodded and allowed Gibbs to help her to her feet. She glanced out over the railing, surprised to see a razor-thin sign of land on the horizon. "Where are we, Gibbs?"

Gibbs glanced at the land, then pointed straight ahead, where the water continued. "Straits o' Gibraltar, Miss Gen," he said.

Her eyes widened. "We're at the Mediterranean?" she asked, surprised.

"Aye," he said. He glanced outward. "These're more dangerous waters than th' Caribbean. Let's hope all that's holy is on our side."

OoOoOoOoO

On their side, indeed.

It was not the immediate chaos that Genesis had expected. The storm formed and swelled like any other; a soft rainfall, gathering winds, the beginnings of a lightning storm in the distance in a dark, dreary patch of cloud cover.

She saw the demon. And she its prey.

The _Pearl_ had been many leagues ahead of the _Dauntless_, as was the usual case. It had escaped the main path of the storm.

The naval vessel was not so lucky.

She and Rosalyn watched from the riggings as the great, beautiful ship was tossed about like a toy boat in an overzealous child's bathtub, pristine sails torn and charred from lightning strikes. They could just make out the forms of sailors, redcoats, naval officers, all made even in status in the face of certain death, clambering about the riggings, desperate to keep their girl afloat.

To no avail.

Genesis released a wail, Rosalyn a choked gasp, as the _Dauntless_ found itself thrashed against a nearly hidden, rocky island, the timber of her body snapping and crunching so loudly that the girls could hear it themselves. Hear the screaming of the hundreds of men as they realized that their ship had lost. They had lost.

The two women stayed like that for a long while, wrapped in the riggings to keep above the deck, watching until the _Dauntless_ disappeared beneath the waves, and the ocean calmed again.

"That should have been us," Genesis said suddenly. Rosalyn looked at her, brow furrowed, but the brunette merely climbed down the riggings, face pale and drawn.

OoOoOoOoO

It was a few days later when they finally docked in a small pirate-friendly port off the coast of Greece. Genesis had remained in a very somber mood, and habitually went off into long staring bouts towards the sea. Rosalyn had tried anything and everything to snap her best mate out of it, but to no avail.

And so, Jack decided to intervene. And what better way to cheer up a pirate than a good night of drinking?

Genesis followed her captain soundlessly through the throngs, knowing well to keep close; Jack was the only one amongst them who knew any Greek (though his knowledge of it seemed to extend only to nautical terms, asking how to find a location, and something that made one of the Greek whores slap him and spit at his feet), and to get lost in this place would surely land her in a very dangerous position. Rosalyn also followed closely, walking at Jack's side, and she glanced back at her silent friend. She frowned, and elbowed Jack in the ribs, signaling to the quiet brunette behind them. Jack swung around, tossing an arm out as he did so and using it to conveniently hook Genesis about the waist and pull the young woman to him as he walked.

"Come now, Genni, how can you be so somber in a place as lively as this?" he asked with a lopsided grin, gesturing to the town with a bejeweled hand.

Genesis glanced about, spotting, within seconds, a transvestite prostitute coercing a drunken sailor into an alley under presumably false pretenses, a young boy pickpocketing a holy man preaching on a corner, and a dog lifting its leg to urinate on a man passed out at a barroom door. She glanced at Jack. "Charming."

"Bah," he said dismissively. "Come along." He looked at the sign above the tavern door. "To the…Krisya…..Krysta…to the rum!"

Gen sighed as she was pulled inside. "Fine. But I'm not drinking."

OoOoOoOoO

Pain. That's all she could think of as she woke up. Her head pounded, the tiny sliver of light pouring through a thin gap in the blanket almost unbearable, let alone the thought of sitting up and facing the full-on sunlight. She shifted slightly, and her stomach lurched, the sheets rubbing against the tender skin on her lower back. Christ, that hurt…

…tender skin?

She sat up quickly, nearly screeching from the blinding sunlight. Or rather, the dim amount that managed to come in through the foggy, dirty porthole that served as a window. She ignored the pounding in her head to instead focus on the jolt of pain from the left side of her lower back. Her hand flew back, lifting her shirt and coming to rest on the telltale texture of a linen bandage.

"What. The. Hell."

Her mind scrambled, breathing becoming shallow, heart racing. Was there a fight in the tavern? Had she been stabbed? Shot? She racked her brain, but couldn't remember anything after that last mug…

She ripped the bandages away, tenderly brushing her fingertips over her skin and wincing at the sharp sting. She pulled her hand away, looking down to see the telltale signs of blood, dried and fresh, and…black…

Black?

She rolled out of her bunk, grabbing a mirror from the ramshackle table near the beds and positioning it so that she could see the wound. Scattered traces of blood, but a pattern of black that was unmistakeable.

On the left side of her lower back was a sparrow flying over the ocean in front of a sunset.

"_JAAAAAAAACCCKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!"_

Genesis hardly noticed Rosalyn jumping into consciousness at the bellow and tumbling from her top bunk to the floor with a painful bump and curse as she sped out of the cabin. She mounted the stairs two at a time, finally reaching the main deck and spotting her target staring directly at her.

"You summoned, Gen, love?"

She marched right up to him, ignoring the fact that she was in nothing more than a too-loose nightshirt that fell off her shoulder quite frequently and a pair of bloomers. She brought up a hand, finger pointed at his nose, face burning with rage, mouth opening and closing as if scrounging wildly for the words to convey how she felt about the situation. He raised a brow.

"Good morning."

His casual tone seemed to snap her mind to attention, and she suddenly turned around, lifting the back of the night shirt to reveal the tattoo. "What the hell is this?!"

He leaned back slightly, enjoying the view. "Little piece o' heaven, I'd wager," he replied with a lopsided grin.

The shirt dropped, and she spun again, lunging and launching a slapping attack on his shoulders, chest, arms, and any other part of his body she could lay a slap to.

"You stupid—"

Slap.

"—bloody –"

Slap.

"—rat—"

Slap. Slap.

"—_bastard!"_

Jack finally managed to catch her flailing limbs by the wrists, and yanked her against him, throwing his arms firmly about her to keep her from striking him further. She stopped squirming to glare up at him, face flushed, aqua eyes flashing, hair a mess from her struggling. All in all…it wasn't an entirely unattractive image, Jack thought. He smirked.

"You'll want to get some alcohol on that," he said smoothly. "Wouldn't want an infection to mar the picture."

Her eyes narrowed to blue slits, and she tore herself from his grasp. "You just wait, Sparrow," she hissed. "You'll be sorry."

He smirked as she spun on her heel and marched off. He couldn't help but notice that she did indeed head to the surgeon's cabin, clearly taking heed of his warning about the infection.

OoOoOoOoO

Genesis was still fuming as she made her way to the end of the hallway where Crimp, the ship's surgeon, had set up a sailor's version of a physician's office in a quieter area of the ship. She knocked at the door, and it creaked open at the contact. She poked her head into the darkened room.

"Crimp?" she said. "You about?"

There was no answer. She slipped inside, moving to a table near the door and feeling it semi-blindly, hands falling onto a candle and some matches. She lit the candle, taking it over to a shelf across the room to peruse the bottles, looking for something to clean the wound, and perhaps some new bandages.

She spun as she heard the door creak open again, spotting a familiar silhouette; one of the crewmen, a Scotsman…

"Oh, 'allo," she said with a smile. "It's…Ladbroc, right?"

"Aye," the large man replied. "Ladbroc, Missus Morgan."

"Oh," she said in a friendly tone. "It's Genesis. Not missus." She held up her left hand to show the lack of a ring with a light laugh.

He did not reply, and she paused, then turned back to the shelf. "Did you need something?" she asked. "I can try and find it…Crimp's handwriting is awful, but I think I can--"

Her sentence was cut off as a strong hand wrapped around her bicep and whipped her around. She did not get a chance to get her bearings before she was pushed roughly against the wall, knocking glass bottles off the shelf as Ladbroc's heavy form crushed against her, hands moving to her nightshirt and tearing at it, ripping the neckline further. She gasped and struggled against him.

"No! Get off! You—GAH!"

His hand traveled down, slipping under the waistband of her bloomers; she felt her stomach turn. Her hand moved to the table next to her, and she winced as her finger slid along the blade of a knife, drawing a thin line of blood along her hand.

A knife…

She picked up the surgeon's knife, and shifted, twisting her hips so that the hand clumsily fumbling inside them was pulled free, and he placed his other hand against the wall to brace himself. She swung the knife and struck, driving it straight through the base of his index finger and sticking it deeply into the wood of the wall. The finger fell to the floor, and Ladbroc stumbled back with a gurgling shriek and a curse. Genesis slipped past, sprinting out the door and up the ladder to the main deck.

Jack turned casually upon the sound of running, and his eyes widened at the sight of Genesis running to him, eyes wide and nightshirt splashed with blood. He caught her with a grunt of pain as she barreled into his arms, which wrapped tightly around her.

"Gen," he murmured. "Gen, lass, it's all right. Shhh."

Rosalyn finally made her way up from the girls' shared cabin, and after blinking for a moment in the bright sun, rushed over. "What the French, toast?"

"He…he…" Gen was panting, hyperventilating, hardly able to stand up.

"He?" Jack asked, face darkening.

It didn't take long to find out who this "he" was she spoke of. Another form burst from below deck; the lumbering form of Ladbroc, howling and clutching at his hand, both of which were soaked in blood. Jack's eyes narrowed, but it was Gibbs that stepped forward.

"What in God's name happened here?" the older man asked, eyes wide.

"The little bitch cut off me finger!" Ladbroc bellowed. Rosalyn started forward.

"Just like that, huh?" she said. "What did you do to her?!"

"Rosalyn, darling, please," Jack said, transferring Gen to one side and gently pulling Rosalyn back. The same arm suddenly grabbed Ladbroc by the shirt collar and jerked him forward. "What'd you do to the lass, mate?"

Before Ladbroc could deny it again, Gen was at him like a hellcat. "The sick bastard tried to rape me!" she hissed, spitting at his feet.

"She took me finger!" Ladbroc shouted back. Gibbs stepped forward to pull the Scot away, looking to Jack.

"Ye have a conundrum here, Cap'n," he said seriously, glancing from Genesis to Ladbroc.

Jack moved away, pulling Genesis along with him, looking down as she buried her head against his shoulder, as if trying to shrink into him. He did indeed have a conundrum. Genesis had been attacked, aye, but she'd taken another crewmember's finger. And only the latter was written into the Code…

And the punishment for taking a man's finger was ten lashes.

"Mister Gibbs," he said somberly. "Fetch the cat."

Gibbs hesitated, looking at Genesis for a moment, then obeyed, trudging off to the captain's cabin. Jack looked down to Genesis, murmering. "Miss Morgan…strip your back."

She looked up, eyes wide. "Wh—what?"

"Strip your back, love," he said quietly, untangling her arms from around him.

Rosalyn's jaw dropped. "Are you effing serious?" she said. "Gen is being punished?"

"Follow the Code, follow the Code," screeched a high-pitched voice. Cotton had stepped up to witness the proceedings, his parrot heralding his arrival. Others had started to gather as well.

"Fuck the Code!" Roz spat. "He practically rapes her, and she's getting whipped? What kind of sick justice is that?"

"Just that," Genesis said quietly. "Sick justice."

Gibbs returned suddenly, carrying a nasty-looking cat-of-nine-tails. Genesis paled, stepping backward and away from Jack. Rosalyn shook her head.

"Jack, you can't…" she begged. He turned to look at her, and she could read it in his eyes. This had to be done. If Genesis wasn't punished for taking a crewman's finger, it would cause an immense slippery slope. Jack couldn't go back on his ship's code, nor the Brethren's Code, without his crew possibly taking advantage of such a moment of supposed hypocrisy.

"Against the cannon, Miss Gen," Gibbs said quietly. Genesis was silent for a moment, then moved from the group, making her way over to the cannon. She turned to look at Roz, lifting the back of her shirt.

"Rozzie, help me," she said. Rosalyn gave Jack a glare, and stepped forward, moving to her friend's side and helped her lift the shirt from her back and cover herself with it in the front. Genesis lowered herself to her knees, looking horribly pale, and looked at Roz, grasping her hands tightly.

"Don't leave me?"

Rosalyn's heart nearly stopped. Genesis had always been a strong woman, and independent woman; she was never one to ask anyone for help, or for them to stay with her. Especially not with such fear in her eyes. And so Rosalyn knelt as well on the opposite side of the cannon, holding the brunette's hands.

"Never."

Gibbs stepped forward, looking grim. "Ten lashes shall be administered fer the crime o' takin' a man's finger," he announced, looking dark. He took a deep breath, raising the whip.

The first crack sent Genesis sprawling against the cannon, the look on her face more of surprise than of pain. She released a choked sound, almost letting go of Rosalyn's hands in surprise. Rosalyn flinched at the sound, and snatched for Genesis' hands when they were jerked away.

"Look at me, Genni, look at me…"

The second lash, Genesis was ready for. Bracing herself against the cannon with the aid of Rosalyn's grip, she took the crack of the whip with little more than a grunt of pain, biting her lip to keep from crying out.

Three. Blood began to trickle from between Genesis' teeth as she bit down hard on her lip. Another grunt. Her eyes squeezed shut, tears beginning to fall.

Four.

"Six more, Genni…only six…"

The fifth lash finally wrenched a cry from her lips, a strained, choked scream as she collapsed once again against the cannon, squeezing Rosalyn's hands so hard her fingernails dug into Rosalyn's pale flesh, drawing out angry red crescents.

There was a moment of silence, and Rosalyn looked up past Genesis to Gibbs. The old man stood there, holding the cat o' nine, looking…torn. As if Gen's scream had made it suddenly clear to him that this was not just some scallywag; this was a young woman.

"Devil take me…" he muttered, crossing himself.

"Mister Gibbs."

Rosalyn looked to see Jack, not watching the events transpire, but standing to the side, eyes trained on the sea, shoulders squared and tense. He did not turn around.

"I…I can't, Captain," Gibbs replied. He looked to the younger man. "If ye want the lass whipped, ye'll do it yourself. I'll have no more part." And with that, he thrust the torture device into Jack's hands and strode off, crossing himself once again.

Rosalyn watched as Jack eyed the whip with a detached stare, as if he were watching himself making the decision. Her eyes slipped to Gen's bloodied and tear-stained face, twisted in pain, her body racked with violent shudders and strained attempts not to sob.

Jack stepped toward Genesis, face somber, and raised the whip.

Rosalyn squeezed her eyes shut. Genesis saw the movement on the redhead's face and did the same.

The sound of solid leather thudding against the boards at Jack's feet jolted Rosalyn from her flinching. Jack had dropped the whip, and stood above Genesis, eyes locked on her back, face unreadable. He turned and began to walk away wordlessly.

"Finished, Cap'n?"

Rosalyn's eyes narrowed on the speaker, Leech.

"Aye," was Jack's quiet reply.

"Code calls for ten, I believe," Leech replied.

"Tha' was only five," Ladbroc said, still clutching his mangled hand. Jack's dark eyes narrowed. Roz's widened. She'd never seen such an expression on Jack's face before…

And as quickly as the look had appeared on the captain's face, his hands were on Ladbroc, one wrapped around his throat, the other clutching at the dirty fabric of his shirt. Ladbroc, larger but caught by surprise at Jack's sudden attack, had no time to react before Jack sent him tumbling over the railing of the ship, down into the waters below.

"Miss O'Brien."

Rosalyn looked up at Jack.

"Tend to Miss Morgan." And with that simple command, Jack disappeared into his cabin. Rosalyn ran around the cabin, gathering Genesis into her arms, mindful of the lashes, hissing and crooning words of comfort into Gen's hair.

A few of the crew rushed over, looking down to look for the overboard and now-marooned Ladbroc. He did not surface.


	8. The Show Must Go On

_Disclaimer: I, of course, do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. I do, however, own Genesis and Rosalyn, though they will never, ever, admit it. _

_Author's Note: This story is the sequel to Destinations: Really Bad Eggs. So do read that first, else much of this won't make sense. Especially the fact that these two strange women are aboard the _Pearl_. XD_

**Chapter 8: The Show Must Go On**

The next few days stretched into eternity for the _Pearl's_ female faction. Gen's wounds proved more problematic than anyone had expected, catching an infection that sent her into frightening, spiking fevers. Rosalyn was an absolute wreck, not leaving her friend's side, sending whatever crewman that happened to be passing for more water, for fruit for Genesis to suck on, for rags to wet and place over the brunette's burning brow. She kept the wounds as clean as possible, placing fresh bandages over them as soon as the washed ones were dry again.

Jack kept his distance. Rosalyn wasn't sure whether to be angry for his cowardice and apparent lack of concern or to try to read more into it. Was that guilt etched upon her captain's face when he ventured near enough to catch a glimpse of Genesis? Rosalyn's idealist side said yes. Her much more dominant realistic side doubted it.

Genesis was slowly regaining her strength, able to walk on her own about deck by the time they caught their first glimpse of Turkey on the horizon. She stood on deck, hips leaned forward against the railing, wearing a simple blouse over breeches. Her wounds were finally healing up well, scabbing over and no longer oozing or feverish. A few strands of hair escaped her braid and whipped about her face in the harsh breeze, the overcast skies contrasting with the bright aqua of her eyes. Turkey was little more than a razor-thin strip of indistinguishable beige at this distance, though she had no idea what, precisely, she was looking at. Any other time, she'd have just gone and asked—

"Turkey."

Her head moved slightly to the side at his voice, not quite looking at him, only enough movement to acknowledge his presence. Her gaze returned to the strip of land, attempting to look as if she understood with his simple word for a long moment. Alas, it didn't clarify…anything. She swallowed, feeling a bit awkward to be speaking to him again. "…and?"

"Our destination," Jack went on with his typical sense of confidence, seeming to not feel an ounce of the insecurity that she did. "That particular destination being that which holds the next clue to a specific predicament of yours truly."

"Ah," she said with a lack of finality. She was silent for a moment, and then looked his way. "I'm not angry with you, Jack."

He visibly stiffened, the slight motion barely noticeable, and Genesis did not even see it, let alone acknowledge it with any sense of joy at his new discomfort. Her eyes were back on the horizon, and he was thankful for it.

"You did what you had to do," she continued. "Can't say I would've done the same, but I understand why you did it."

More silence. It was enough. She took it as an apology. She would never expect a true one out of him; it wasn't Jack's way. Never had been, never would be.

Meanwhile, Rosalyn had taken to busying herself with…work. Though being a look-out in a crow's nest could hardly be considered busy work. At the moment, she was hardly working at all; instead, she was sitting down below the railing of the nest, bandana lowered over her closed eyes, swaying between the land of the living and the land of the oh-my-God-I'm-so-bored-let-me-pass-out. Every so often the ship would sink down over a wave more quickly than usual, and the drop would shake her from her stupor. Her thumb would poke under a lowered bandana long enough to allow one green eye to scope out the horizon, and she would return to her nap once she felt secure.

This was sort of like that. Except that green eye caught sight of something very odd on the water.

The bandana was removed from her eyes so quickly that it actually flew off of her head and fluttered out into the sea. She stood, leaning slightly over the railing to peer out over the rippling glass of the Mediterranean. It almost looked like a short line of mountains, brown peaks so perfectly formed it couldn't have been naturally made. Her hand flew to the spyglass tucked into her belt and brought it to her eyes.

"Please be really weird rocks…._please_….."

No such luck. The spyglass revealed the shapes' true nature.

She swung around to the other side of the nest, leaning over to spot Jack standing near Genesis. Too distracted to put this together in her head as odd after the past few weeks, Roz shouted down to the captain.

"Sparrow, we've got—"

Her yell cut off as her eyes flicked to the horizon past him. More of the shapes coming from the other side…her gaze traveled the line of the horizon….more brown sails. A perfect arc, cutting off the ocean, coming towards them as if herding sheep into a pen.

"Captain!"

Jack had looked up the first time she'd shouted to him, looking slightly annoyed at first to find she was no longer looking at him. Until he followed her gaze. He frowned and likewise took out a spyglass. Genesis finally looked at him.

"What?" she asked, squinting out to see what he saw. Her untrained eyes picked out the tips of the sails, but her mind didn't process what they were. Like Rosalyn above her, she took them at first for rocks. "Are we in shallows?"

Jack didn't hear her. Or chose to ignore her. Either way, he was off like a rocket, rushing to the helm and shouting orders so quickly she missed about ninety percent of them. She chased after him, in a much more labored manner, face twisted in confusion. "What's going on?"

He looked down at her for a moment, and it seemed like her appearance gave him a sudden idea. She didn't like the look.

He leapt down from where he stood and took her by the arm, weaving between the bodies of the crewmen rushing to follow their captain's demands and yanking her to a more secluded spot underneath the stairs. "I need you to do your dear captain a favor, Miss Morgan," he said in hushed tones.

Her eyes narrowed skeptically. "What sort of favor?"

"A distracting one."

oOoOoOoOoOo

It had worked like a charm. Jack's quick explanation of what had to transpire was simple enough, and his uncharacteristically solemn expression when she asked what this was all about was enough to silence her questions. She wondered if she would ever be able to not trust him innately.

Any crewman that wasn't entirely engrossed with his own work rushed to her side as the young woman suddenly collapsed on deck, breathing heavily, blue eyes rolling. It looked to all the world like another fever had taken her, though in a few moments it was clear that she was neither burning up, nor suffering the tiring yet thankful break of said fever. The act was enough.

Genesis suddenly sprang to life again to look over the railing; sure enough, Jack was plenty far away, rowing in one of the longboats like he'd never rowed before, heading straight out to the line of what Genesis now saw to be ships. Between his speed and the approach of the ships, he'd likely reach them within twenty minutes, perhaps less.

"Miss Gen, I—"

She turned to look at Gibbs. "Hard to port, Mister Gibbs," she said in a soft, yet firm tone. He faltered for a moment, glancing at Jack over her shoulder, and frowned. It had been a trick. Jack, and his lovely young accomplice, had pulled a fast one on all of them.

Genesis frowned at his hesitation. "Captain's orders, Gibbs," she said, voice slightly stronger than before. "Hard. To. Port."

Gibbs looked very torn between being angry with her using such a tone with him, and knowing that she likely and truly spoke for the captain. He finally growled and spun on his heel, echoing her, and Jack's, command to the crew.

The _Black Pearl_ weaved to the side, clinging as close to the shoreline as it could. As expected, most of the ships had begun to swerve towards Jack as he neared them, and only a few lined the west horizon, hanging back from what appeared to be an ambush of Jack's longboat. The _Pearl_ had her chance, and she took it, sliding quickly and easily between the largest gap. The brown ships, the Barbary corsairs, didn't have a chance. Genesis and Rosalyn, who had climbed down at the first sign of trouble, stood at the railing, watching as Jack's boat became a dot near the large brown-sailed vessels.

"One week and three days," Genesis said quietly.

"And then?" asked the redhead.

"We get our captain back."

_**A/N: That's all folks! I apologize not only for the lateness of this latest and final update to this tale, but for the fact that it is horrible, especially toward the end. This chapter has been sitting on my hard drive for MONTHS, and I've had the worst time writing it. I finally realized I needed to just get something down on paper (or on the screen, as it were) and just get it on here so that I could continue with the next installment. XD So, keep a lookout for the next volume, **_**Destinations: And a Bottle of Rum**_**, and thank you all for reading! I appreciate each and every one of you! 3**_


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